This File Last Updated: 2010/01/04


Karlos Grigorievich Sherman

(Шэрман Карлас Рыгоравіч)


Poet and Translator; October 25, 1934 -- March 4, 2005

[ Photograph: Karlos Sherman ]


Photo Credit: Накірункі Свету (The Cardinal Points). A book-length poem in four languages, Беларускі кнігазбор, Mensk (2000); frontispiece.



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Excerpt (in Spanish, Belarusian, and English) from Накірункі Свету (The Cardinal Points). A book-length poem in four languages, Беларускі кнігазбор, Mensk (2000), pages 11, 34, and 57, respectively.

    EL MANITU

          Alter ego

      El Manitu
      Murmura:
      Mírate al espejo
      De obsidiana negra
      Como la noche de los jaguares,
      Y me verás,
      Pero yo hablo contigo en silencio,
      Es la lengua
      Que piensa y siente
      Tu propio pasado
      En flor.

      Cada hecho
      En discordia conmigo
      Marchita un pétalo
      De nuestra vida,
      Arruga la piel
      Del alma,
      Empaña el espejo
      De obsidiana negra
      Como la noche de los jaguares.

      Sabrás entonces
      De mi muerte,
      El frío
      De tu última soledad,
      El adiós,
      Petrificado en tus labios,
      Como si hablaras como yo,
      En silencio,
      Por última vez.

    МАНІТУ

          Alter ego

      Маніту нашэптвае ў цішыні.
      Дзе неба без хмараў:
      На сябе ў люстэрка зірні
      З чорнага абсідыяну,
      Як ноч ягуараў,
      І пабачыш мяне,
      Але я гутару з табой
      Моўчкі
      На мове, што прачула
      Абдумвае і адчувае
      Тваё міулае ў квецені.

      Ад кожнай дзеі насупленай
      Насуперак мне
      Вяне пялёстак жыцця
      І хмура
      Зморшчваецца скура
      Душы,
      Задыхаецца люстэрка ад чараў
      З абсідыяну чорнага,
      Як ноч ягуараў.

      Тады адно ты
      Даведаешся пра маю смерць,
      Зведаеш холад
      Апошняй самоты,
      І развітанне
      Скамянее на вуснах,
      Быццам ты гаворыш,
      Як я якраз,
      Ў апошні раз.

    THE MANITU

          Alter ego

      The Manitu
      Murmurs:
      'Gaze into the mirror
      Of obsidian, black
      As the night of the jaguars.
      And behold me,
      But I must talk with you in silence,
      It is the language
      Which nurtures and fosters
      Your past
      As a flower.

      Every action
      In discord with me
      Withers a petal
      Of our shared life,
      Wrinkles the skin
      Of the soul,
      Mists over the mirror
      Of obsidian, black
      As the night of the jaguars.

      And you will learn
      From my death,
      The chill
      Of your last loneliness,
      The farewell,
      Turned to stone on your lips
      As if, like me, you were talking
      In silence
      For the very last time.'





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Original content and overall form ©1996-2010 by Peter Kasaty : All Rights Reserved. Last Updated:  2010/01/04
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