Poetic-Verses from ATHANASE
The Glass Marbles (English)
for Lubomir Detchev
'On this journey
I didn't even take any silk
to offer to the god!
When I reached the mountain of Offerings
I wanted him to accept
of his own free will
a brocade of autumn leaves.'
Sugwara no Michizane
1.
A dear friend of mine had multicoloured glass marbles,
marbles so fine that they filled our dreams
at night.
My mother used to say: 'They're marvellous, my son,
but, remember, you have the immortal marbles of the stars,
see how they sparkle
and roll gently across the sky!
2.
But then, my friend, you gave me special permission
to hold them in my hands,
and to show me the full extent
of your love for me,
to prove to me how absolute was your faith in me,
you granted me the supreme privilege
of taking them home with me
for one whole afternoon!
3.
O my friend, time, the depository
of truth and justice,
has erased, with its extravagant hand,
like a shadow painting,
those wonderful years
angelic, innocent and carefree.
It has made hollows in our pink cheeks
and quietly,
imperceptibly,
stubbornly, parallel in its
Olympian patience
with the cruelly delicate work
of drops of water falling on marble,
has etched deep ravinous furrows
in the place where wisdom is supposed to grow
the flowers of high truth!
4.
Then, one morning, in Paris,
I learned of your death!...
O days of violent sadness,
hours of madness,
nights of the full moon heavy with insomnia,
of fear and anguish!
That is how the bitter dew of tears
settled on the footpaths of my dreams,
that is how, accompanied by my shadow,
I came to contemplate the theory of memories!
5.
Long years have passed
since then!
And suddenly, tonight,
far from our Thracia of geraniums and lilacs,
I dreamed of you!
You, lavishly young,
in the courtyard of the old hospital
of our town full of greenery,
gently leaning against your mother's shoulder,
pale, weak, transparent!
6.
I walk towards you at a measured pace,
stop for a moment
and take from my pocket
a great handful of marbles
of all colours.
You get up, run towards me,
take me in your feverish arms,
press me against your breathless breast
and say:
'Keep the marbles, give them back to me
the day you come to visit me
in my new house'.
7.
I wake,
my body trembling like a silver birch leaf,
copious tears flowing onto my pillow!
8.
O my friend, friend whom I loved so dearly,
whom I still love as much,
I promise you, I swear to you,
before God and the Thracian heavens,
our true homeland,
that I will return the marbles
the day I come to visit you.
How could it be otherwise
my friend, now that you are
real to me, an undying essence,
a pure truth!
translated from the French of Athanase Vantchev de Thracy by Norton Hodges
19.09.06.
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
The Glass Marbles (English)
The Glass Marbles (English)
