Era pieno inverno.
Soffiava il vento della steppa.
E aveva freddo il neonato nella grotta
Sul pendio della collina.

L’alito del bue lo riscaldava.
Animali domestici
stavano nella grotta,
sulla culla vagava un tiepido vapore.

Scossi dalle pelli le paglie del giaciglio
e i grani di miglio,
dalle rupi guardavano
assonnati i pastori gli spazi della mezzanotte.

Lontano, la pianura sotto la neve, e il cimitero
e recinti e pietre tombali
e stanghe di carri confitte nella neve,
e sul cimitero il cielo tutto stellato.

E lì accanto, mai vista sino allora,
più modesta d’un lucignolo
alla finestrella d’un capanno,
traluceva una stella sulla strada di Betlemme.

…………………………………

Рождественская звезда

Стояла зима.
Дул ветер из степи.
И холодно было младенцу в вертепе
На склоне холма.

Его согревало дыханье вола.
Домашние звери
Стояли в пещере,
Над яслями теплая дымка плыла.

Доху отряхнув от постельной трухи
И зернышек проса,
Смотрели с утеса
Спросонья в полночную даль пастухи.

Вдали было поле в снегу и погост,
Ограды, надгробья,
Оглобля в сугробе,
И небо над кладбищем, полное звезд.

А рядом, неведомая перед тем,
Застенчивей плошки
В оконце сторожки
Мерцала звезда по пути в Вифлеем.
…………………………………..

The Star of the Nativity

It was winter, and chill
Wind blew from the steppe,
And the infant felt cold as he lay in that den
On the slope of the hill.

And as he lay there, the child was kept warm
By the breathing of oxen,
And a haze hung over the manger,
For in that cave they kept beasts from the farm.

Shaking the bedstraw and granules of millet
From their sheepskins,
Bleary-eyed herdsmen
Gazed from their crag at the expanse of midnight.

Far away, beneath snow lay the burial yard,
Fields, fences, and tombstones,
Snow-drifted cart shafts,
And over the graves stood a sky full of stars.

And nearby, and unseen hitherto and more timid
Than candle-stub glow
In a night-watchman’s window,
The star on the roadway to Bethlehem glinted.

……………………………………..

(Translated by Christopher Barnes
University of Toronto · Academic Electronic Journal in Slavic Studies)

______________________________

Lindsey Stirling – O Holy Night (Official Music Video)

Some People Like Poetry

Some people—
that means not everyone.
Not even most of them, only a few.
Not counting school, where you have to,
and poets themselves,
you might end up with something like two per thousand.

Like—
but then, you can like chicken noodle soup,
or compliments, or the color blue,
your old scarf,
your own way,
petting the dog.

Poetry—
but what is poetry anyway?
More than one rickety answer
has tumbled since that question first was raised.
But I just keep on not knowing, and I cling to that
like a redemptive handrail.

(Translated by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh)

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