I startled. Then I saw that it was not a dream.
Nor was it the fancy of a poet.
The "Theodor Nette" turned about to steam
Into the port.
I have recognized him. He arrived
Wearing round spectacles of safety buoys.
Hello, Nette! I'm so glad that you're alive,
A smoky life of funnels, hooks and coils.
Now come here. How's everything?
You must have traveled, boiling, very far...
You remember, when a human being,
Having tea with me in a sleeping car?
People snored while you sat up till morn.
Squinting at the sealing-wax with half closed eyes.
You would talk about Rommie Yakobson
And amuse yourself by learning rhymes.
You'd fall asleep at dawn, revolver at the ready.
Was there anybody going to pry?
Could I think that in a year's time already
As a ship you would appear to my eye ?
Big and bright is the moon that shines in your rear,
The vast is divided in two by its light.
As if you were dragging the trace of a hero
From the scene of a severe naval fight.
We don't believe in communism from the books we read
There is a lot of rubbish in them as a rule.
But this is something that turns all "fibs" to real
And reveals the gist of the idea to the full.
We are living bound by an iron oath,
And we might as well be hanged and crushed
For we want this world to be a common earth
Without Latvias and without Russias.
We have blood, not water flowing in our body.
We are marching through the pistol din
So that consequently we might be embodied
In a ship, a poem or some other lasting thing.
I would live on and on following my bent.
But I have just one wish at length:
I would like to meet my latter end
Just as comrade Nette met his death.
Я недаром вздрогнул.
Не загробный вздор.
В порт,
горящий,
как расплавленное лето,
разворачивался
и входил
товарищ «Теодор
Нетте».
Это — он.
Я узнаю его.
В блюдечках — очках спасательных кругов.
— Здравствуй, Нетте!
Как я рад, что ты живой
дымной жизнью труб,
канатов
и крюков.
Подойди сюда!
Тебе не мелко?
От Батума,
чай, котлами покипел…
Помнишь, Нетте,—
в бытность человеком
ты пивал чаи
со мною в дипкупе?
Медлил ты.
Захрапывали сони.
Глаз
кося
в печати сургуча,
напролет
болтал о Ромке Якобсоне
и смешно потел,
стихи уча.
Засыпал к утру.
Курок
аж палец свел…
Суньтеся —
кому охота!
Думал ли,
что через год всего
встречусь я
с тобою —
с пароходом.
За кормой лунища.
Ну и здорово!
Залегла,
просторы надвое порвав.
Будто навек
за собой
из битвы коридоровой
тянешь след героя,
светел и кровав.
В коммунизм из книжки
верят средне.
«Мало ли,
что можно
в книжке намолоть!»
А такое —
оживит внезапно «бредни»
и покажет
коммунизма
естество и плоть.
Мы живем,
зажатые
железной клятвой.
За нее —
на крест,
и пулею чешите:
это —
чтобы в мире
без России,
без Латвии,
жить единым
человечьим общежитьем.
В наших жилах —
кровь, а не водица.
Мы идем
сквозь револьверный лай,
чтобы,
умирая,
воплотиться
в пароходы,
в строчки
и в другие долгие дела.
____
Мне бы жить и жить,
сквозь годы мчась.
Но в конце хочу —
других желаний нету —
встретить я хочу
мой смертный час
так,
как встретил смерть
товарищ Нетте.
«In ancient days, when God cast down his gaze / Upon the newly created world, / Words could stop the sun, / Words could shatter cities. Eagles didn't spread their wings, / And stars huddled, horror-stricken, round the moon, / Whenever words, like pink flame, / Drifted through the heights...»
«In those primal days when God Almighty / Bent His face over the fresh world — then / The word made the sun stand still in heaven, / The word tore apart the towns of men. And when the word — like a pink flame burning — / Floated freely in the highest flight, / Eagles did not stir the...»
«He did not lie to us, that spirit, mournfully severe, / Whose name was borrowed from the morning star, / When he said: "Don't fear requital from above; / Taste the fruit, and you will be as gods." For youths all roads were opened, / For elders — all forbidden works, / For girls — ambe...»
«He did not lie — the ghost, so sad and thoughtful, / That from a star took his name by a chance, / When he had said, “Don’t fear the Lord”, to us, / “Just try the fruit and be like Him immortal”. All routs for youths were opened in glow, / And all forbidden works – for older ...»