It’s a bit early, but I will be busy later in the day.
On September the 11th, I have for you my own translation of the virst two stanzas Boris Pasternak’s “I dreamed of autumn…” I believe they’re relevant for today. The Russian original can be found here.
An old professor once told me “it’s a good start, but it’s not poetry. Not yet, anyway.” Well, it’s the best I can come up with today. I have improved over time, and will hopefully continue improving. Please don’t steal this translation, it’s an original (and it’s not that great, OK?).
I dreamed of autumn in the half-light of glass windows,
Our friends, and you within their clownish band,
And, like a sated falcon from above,
My heart descended to your hand.But time went on, and it grew old, and muffled,
And, crusting the window-panes with silver embers,
The sunset from the garden bathed the windows
With bloody tears of September.
There is more to this wonderful poem, two more stanzas, to be exact, but they have proved to be more difficult, and my efforts with them have resulted in something even more chaotic than what you have just read. I am working on the revision though.
Thanks for reading.
Natalia A. 