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Selected Poetry (Penguin) Page 13

Resplendent motley raggedness,

  Children’s and old men’s nakedness,

  The barks and howls of dogs, the music

  Of bagpipes, axles under stress –

  80All of it so rudely rustic

  And random, but so live and strong,

  So foreign to our empty leisure,

  So foreign to the life of pleasure,

  Monotonous as prison song!

  *

  The young man fixed a doleful eye

  Upon the now abandoned plain;

  The reason for his melancholy

  He could not fathom or explain.

  Beside him was dark-eyed Zemfira,

  90And he the world’s free citizen;

  Merrily the midday sun

  Shone down from heavens never clearer;

  What was the burden that oppressed him?

  What was the sorrow that obsessed him?

  God’s little bird knows neither

  Labour nor unrest,

  Doesn’t make an effort

  To build a lasting nest;

  At sunrise, after sleeping

  100Soundly all night long,

  It hears the voice of God,

  Wakes and sings its song.

  After spring in glory,

  Sultry summer is here,

  Then comes cruel weather,

  Autumn of the year,

  Comfortless for man;

  Off flies the bird, to be

  Warm until the spring

  110Over the dark blue sea.

  Like that bird without a care

  He too, a migrant on the wing,

  Couldn’t settle anywhere,

  Couldn’t get used to anything.

  The way to anywhere he took,

  Anywhere his night’s abode;

  His every day, when he awoke,

  He offered to the will of God,

  Life’s tribulations never shook

  120The torpor of his heart and mind.

  Sometimes that distant comet, fame,

  Would stir him with its magic flame,

  Or unsought pleasure he might find;

  Many a time the gathered thunder

  Crashed above his lonely head –

  Come fair or foul, still he would slumber

  Careless as ever on his bed.

  Innocent of human thrall

  To blind and cunning destiny

  130He lived … But once – how brutally

  The passions had besieged his soul,

  Had seethed in his tormented breast!

  When, how long though, laid to rest?

  They will awaken: wait and see!

  *

  ZEMFIRA

  Tell me, my love, do you not pine

  For what you’ve chosen to renounce?

  ALEKO

  What is it I have left behind?

  ZEMFIRA

  You know – your countrymen, and towns.

  ALEKO

  Those towns! You can’t imagine … where

  140No one is free in anything,

  No one breathes the morning air,

  The scent of meadowland in spring;

  Where love is shame, and so are brains,

  They barter with their liberty

  And revel in idolatry,

  And all they want is gold and chains!

  What have I left behind? Betrayal,

  Relentless hounding by the crowd,

  Judgement passed by minds gone stale,

  150Disgrace – which only makes one proud!

  ZEMFIRA

  But those great stately chambers, those

  Gorgeous rugs and carpets, those

  Revels and banquets, those rich clothes!

  ALEKO

  What is the point of those enjoyments?

  If there’s no love, then there’s no pleasure.

  Those girls … But you – without adornments

  And finery – you are far better!

  Do not change; you’re dear and good!

  I only wish to be with you

  160And have you share my solitude;

  And you shall always find me true!

  OLD MAN

  You are fond of us, although you come from

  A people used to wealth and ease.

  But freedom doesn’t always please

  Those who have lived a life of comfort.

  I have heard tell, an emperor

  Banished a subject, who then came

  To live with us, a southerner

  (I can’t remember his strange name).

  170By then he was no longer young,

  But young and vigorous in his soul –

  He had the magic gift of song,

  And in his voice you heard the fall

  Of waters – he was popular;

  He lived beside the Danube here

  And did no harm to anyone;

  His tales enchanted everyone;

  Life’s needs he little understood,

  He had a child’s timidity,

  180His frame was weak, his livelihood

  Hung on strangers’ charity –

  When the swift river was iced over

  And blizzards raged and winter wind,

  People from all around would cover

  The saintly man with furry skins;

  The life, however, of the poor

  Was one to which he couldn’t take;

  He wandered, pale, thin as a rake,

  An angry god pursued him, for

  190A crime, he said, was on his hands …

  He waited for deliverance.

  The unhappy man was always grieving;

  Beside the Danube he would roam,

  Remembering his distant home,

  And bitter was that old man’s weeping;

  Dying, he made a last request

  His yearning bones be taken south,

  For never could they be at rest

  Here on alien soil in death!

  ALEKO

  200A son of yours, and come to this,

  O Rome, O city of glorious name!

  Singer of love and deities,

  Can you tell me, what is fame?

  The voice of praise, an endless knell,

  A sound that runs from age to age?

  The tale a gypsy has to tell,

  A smoke-filled tent for all his stage?

  *

  A year goes by … another year.

  The gypsies in their peaceful throng

  210Wander on, and everywhere,

  Wherever they settle, they belong.

  Spurning the chains of civilisation,

  Aleko spends, as free as they,

  His each and every roaming day

  Without regrets or agitation.

  He and his hosts remain the same;

  He gives no thought to former days,

  He has grown used to gypsy ways.

  He loves their new-found nightly home,

  220Their language, poor but sonorous,

  The rapture of pure idleness.

  His shelter’s shaggy guest, the bear,

  A vagrant from its native lair,

  Roves the Moldavian villages,

  Performs its clumsy dancing, gnaws

  Its irritating chain, and roars

  Before the wary villagers;

  The bent old man is not averse

  To beating on a tambourine,

  230Aleko leads the bear and sings,

  Zarema goes about to glean

  The voluntary offerings.

  Night falls; the three together make

  Their meal of unreaped millet grain;

  Soon the old man is nodding … then

  The tent is tranquil in the dark.

  *

  The old man warms in springtime sun

  Blood already growing cold;

  His daughter, with her little one,

  240Sings. Aleko hears, appalled:

  ZEMFIRA

  Old husband, dread husband,

  Stab your
wife, burn your wife:

  Firm I stand – I don’t fear

  Fire or the knife.

  I hate you, despise you,

  Another I love;

  He has all my heart,

  I shall die for my love.

  ALEKO

  This is a song I will not hear,

  250Enough – wild songs are not for me.

  ZEMFIRA

  Oh, not for you? That’s as may be,

  This one I don’t intend to share.

  Stab your wife, burn your wife,

  I shall say nothing –

  Old husband, dread husband,

  Huffing and puffing!

  Fresh as the spring he is,

  Hot as high summer;

  How young and bold he is!

  260Ah! what a lover!

  How I caress him

  Deep in the night!

  How we both laugh at you,

  Grizzled old fright!

  ALEKO

  Zemfira! That’s enough for me …

  ZEMFIRA

  You understand my song is true?

  ALEKO

  Zemfira!

  ZEMFIRA

  Rage at me, you’re free,

  The subject of my song is you.

  (Goes away singing the song.)

  OLD MAN

  I know that song – it’s long been sung,

  270It was composed when I was young:

  On winter nights my Mariyule

  Would rock our daughter by the fire,

  Out on the steppes of the Kagul,

  And sing it, she would never tire.

  These days I’ve left the past behind;

  That song, though, never leaves my mind.

  *

  Night, and all is quiet. The moon

  Adorns the azure southern sky;

  Zemfira wakens the old man:

  280‘Father! Aleko frightens me.

  Look at him now, he’s soundly sleeping;

  But listen: how he’s groaning, weeping.’

  OLD MAN

  You mustn’t touch him. Not a sound.

  The Russians say: from midnight on

  A household spirit hovers round

  And cramps a sleeper’s breath; by dawn

  That evil spirit will be gone.

  Come and sit with me.

  ZEMFIRA

  ‘Zemfira!’

  I heard him whisper!

  OLD MAN

  You are his troth

  290Even in sleeping; you are dearer

  Than all the world to him.

  ZEMFIRA

  I loathe

  His love. How bored I am! I long

  For freedom – I am already … No,

  Not out loud … Do you hear him now?

  Another name is on his tongue …

  OLD MAN

  What name?

  ZEMFIRA

  Just listen! How he chews

  And groans! … It’s terrible to hear it! …

  I’ll wake him.

  OLD MAN

  It will be no use,

  You mustn’t chase away the spirit –

  300It leaves you when the time is right …

  ZEMFIRA

  He called to me … he’s turned his head …

  Now he’s starting from his bed –

  I’ll go to him – sleep now, good night.

  ALEKO

  Where have you been?

  ZEMFIRA

  Sitting with father.

  Some spirit has been cruelly

  Lashing your soul, making you suffer

  During your sleep; you frightened me,

  Your teeth were grinding in your mouth;

  You called me.

  ALEKO

  You were in my dream –

  310And it was this: I saw us both …

  Terrible things were in my dream!

  ZEMFIRA

  Dreams and nightmares are deceiving.

  Don’t believe them.

  ALEKO

  I believe in

  Nothing at all, not dreams, nor sweet

  Endearments – no, not even your heart.

  *

  OLD MAN

  Why do you sigh, young hothead? Here

  People are free, the sky is clear,

  Our women’s beauty is above

  All others’. Grief destroys. So leave

  320This melancholy: do not grieve.

  ALEKO

  Father, I have lost her love.

  OLD MAN

  Be consoled; she is a child.

  You are downcast unwarrantably;

  Your love is labour, grief and bile;

  A woman loves light-heartedly.

  Look at the free moon in the sky;

  Her beams shine down indifferently

  On nature as she passes by.

  She comes to a cloud and lights it up,

  330And moves to another; she’ll not stop.

  Who shall place her in the skies

  And tell her where she has to stay!

  To a young girl’s heart, who is to say:

  Love just once, let that suffice!

  Be consoled.

  ALEKO

  Ah, how she loved me!

  In the silence of the steppe,

  When all the world was fast asleep,

  How tenderly she leant towards me!

  Full of childlike happiness,

  340How often she would put to flight

  The lonely stretches of the night

  With whispers or a passionate kiss! …

  But now Zemfira – what to do?

  Now my Zemfira is untrue!

  OLD MAN

  Listen: I will relate to you

  A sad event I well recall.

  The Danube – it was long ago –

  Was still unknown to the Moskàl;

  The Sultan held us all in thrall;

  350From the high towers of Akkerman

  A pasha ruled the Budzhak plain –

  In those days I was young; my soul

  Was light, my head still showed no sign

  Of grey. Among the beauties, one

  I admired and worshipped like the sun,

  And in the end I called her mine …

  Ah, how soon my youth flashed by –

  As swiftly as a shooting star!

  But then the time of love passed by

  360More swiftly still: a single year

  Maryula gave me, that was all.

  Once we were skirting the Kagul

  And met another gypsy band;

  They pitched their tents alongside ours,

  And on that wild and hilly ground

  They spent the next two nights with us.

  The third night came, and they had gone –

  Maryula left her little daughter

  And me in her hotfoot departure.

  370I slept in perfect peace; at dawn

  My loved one was no longer there!

  I searched and called – no trace of her.

  Zemfira wept and pined, and I

  Wept with her – nowadays I shun

  All women in the world, my eye

  Will never rest with any pleasure

  On one of them, my peaceful leisure

  Is never shared with anyone.

  ALEKO

  If I’d been you, I would have gone

  380Straight after her, my faithless wife –

  Put her, her captors, to the knife.

  OLD MAN

  Why? Youth is freer than a bird;

  You’ll try to hold back love in vain;

  Happiness comes to all in turn,

  And what has been won’t come again.

  ALEKO

  I could not live like that. No foe

  Could take my rights from me – ah no!

  I would at least enjoy revenge.

  And if I found my enemy

  390High on a cliff above the sea

  Asleep, I swear I’d never blench –

  My foot woul
d send that dog to hell

  Over the cliff, down to the surf;

  His sudden terror as he fell

  Would fill me with unholy mirth –

  How I would laugh to hear him howl!

  *

  YOUNG GYPSY

  One more kiss … One more, just one …

  ZEMFIRA

  My husband has a jealous eye.

  YOUNG GYPSY

  Longer … One more! … to say goodbye.

  ZEMFIRA

  400Well, goodbye then – quick, he’ll come.

  YOUNG GYPSY

  Next time – when will it be safe?

  ZEMFIRA

  When the moon goes up tonight –

  There, past that mound, beside the grave …

  YOUNG GYPSY

  She’ll not come! She’s pretending!

  ZEMFIRA

  Hide!

  He’s coming! … Here I am, my love.

  *

  Aleko sleeps. But in his mind

  A dreadful vision is played out.

  He wakes in darkness with a shout

  And reaches with a jealous hand;

  410A hand, however, that grows shy

  Clutching a chill-grown coverlet –

  His loved one is no longer by …

  He sits up trembling on the bed …

  Silence all around him – rent

  By sudden fear, he listens, then,

  Hot and cold, he leaves the tent

  To wander, terrible of mien,