Yes, for the multitude of people it’s hard to avoid
The creative influence of celebrated ideas,
The influence of Rudins, Raskolnikovs, Chatskys,
Oblomovs!1 They weigh us down!.. Not like chains,
But only mentally, absolutely not heavy, brotherly...
The artist cuts a silhouette out of life;
He, strictly, is nothing, doesn’t exist in nature!
But a feeble man, without long reflection,
Takes on the ready results of others’ opinions,
And there’s no room for his own to germinate —
Like a spiderweb all paths are woven
Of simple, unbroken, healthy conclusions,
And over his mind — each day, the swarm
of creations of the powerful minds of others thickens...
___
1. The hero-protagonists of Russian nineteenth century classics: Turgenev’s novel Rudin, Dostoyevsky’s novel Crime and Punishment, Griboyedov's play Woe from Wit, and Goncharov’s novel Oblomov, respectively.
Да, трудно избежать для множества людей
Влиянья творчеством отмеченных идей,
Влиянья Рудиных, Раскольниковых, Чацких,
Обломовых! Гнетут!.. Не тот же ль гнет цепей,
Но только умственных, совсем не тяжких, братских...
Художник выкроил из жизни силуэт;
Он, собственно, ничто, его в природе нет!
Но слабый человек, без долгих размышлений,
Берет готовыми итоги чуждых мнений,
А мнениям своим нет места прорасти, —
Как паутиною все затканы пути
Простых, не ломаных, здоровых заключений,
И над умом его — что день, то гуще тьма
Созданий мощного, не своего ума...
«A whisper, timid breathing. / A nightingale's trill, / The silver and the rocking / Of a drowsy rill. Night's light, night's shades, / Shades without cease, / A series of magic changes / In a dear face, In smoky clouds a rose's purple...»
«Pineapples in champagne! Pineapples in champagne! / Spectacularly sparkling — tasty and zesty! / I dive into Norway, I’m swimming in Spain! / With a mind-bolt of vision, I jump for my pencil! The whirr of airplanes! The buzz of racecars! / Wing-beats from iceboats! Wind-claps from train...»
«An honest man / should look others straight in the eye. / We don’t know why. / What if the honest man / has watery, bloodshot eyes? / What if the dishonest one / has terrific eyesight? / Somehow, those who served as safe-keepers / in every time and place / learned to judge truth...»
«With your impoverished settlements, / With your most meager natural gifts, / My native realm of sufferance, / You are the realm where Russia lives! You can’t be grasped or noticed by / The proud outsider’s fleeting gaze: / It misses hidden lights that shine / Within your humble nake...»