January Trees Where shall I find the resilience of trees? I envy their courage. In the first warm rain the poplar branches swell with the hint of new buds. There are even tips of yellow. Have they have forgotten autumn, with last year’s chestnut leaves still rotten in the grass? That’s not easy to do. Let me study the endurance of my eucalyptus whose ovals shivered in the wind all winter through. Elaine Feinstein (1930) Январские деревья Откуда взять мне несгибаемость деревьев? Завидую их стойкости. Лишь первый теплый дождь прошел- И снова почки новые и новые листочки Проклюнулись на старых … Читать далее →

HANDS from Talking to the Dead We first recognised each other as if we were siblings, and when we held hands your touch made me stupidly happy. Hold my hand, you said in the hospital . You had big hands, strong hands, gentle as those of a Mediterranean father caressing the head of a child. Hold my hand , you said. I feel I won’t die while you are here. You took my hand on our first aeroplane and in opera houses, or watching a video you wanted me to share. Hold my hand, you said. I’ll fall asleep and … Читать далее →

Завтра, 24 октября 2017 года, исполняется 87 лет Элейн Файнстайн — английской поэтессе, писателю, драматургу и переводчику. Её имя мало известно российскому читателю и это несправедливо. Предлагаю одно из её стихотворений на английском языке и в переводе Елены Рапли на русский язык. Getting Older The first surprise: I like it. Whatever happens now, some things that used to terrify have not: I didn’t die young, for instance. Or lose my only love. My three children never had to run away from anyone. Don’t tell me this gratitude is complacent. We all approach the edge of the same blackness which for … Читать далее →