در آخرین روز جهان
زنبوری
دورِ شبدری می چرخد
ماهیگیری
تور پاره اش را می دوزد
نهنگی شاد
به دریا می جهد
گنجشکان جوان
بازی می کنند
در کنار ناودان
و پوستِ ماری
طلایی زنگ است
چنان که همیشه باید باشد
در آخرین روز جهان
زنان زیر چترها
از مزرعه ها عبور میکنند
مردی
در کناره ی چمنزار
چرت می زند
سبزی فروشان دوره گرد
درخیابان
فریاد می زنند
زورقی
با بادبان طلایی رنگ
به جزیره نزدیک می شود
نغمه ی ویالونی
در فضا طنین انداز می شود
و شنونده را
به آسمان پر ستاره می برد
آنهایی که
در انتظار رعد و برق
و غُرّشِ آسمان هستند
نا امید می شوند
و آنهایی
که در انتظار نشانه ها
و دمیدن اسرافیل
در صور هستند
باور نمی کنند
هم اکنون
دارد اتفاق می افتد
تا زمانی که
خوشید و ماه
آن بالا هستند
تا زمانی که
زنبور عسل
به ملاقات گل سرخ می شتابد
تا زمانی که
که نوزادانی
چون برگ گل
به دنیا می آیند
هیچ کس
باور نمی کند
که هم اکنون
دارد اتفاق می افتد
تنها
پیرمردی سپید موی
که ممکن بود
پیامبر باشد
اما نیست
زیرا سرش خیلی شلوغ است
در حال بستن گوجه فرنگی هایش
زیر لب تکرار می کند
پایانی
برای جهان نخواهد بود
پایانی
برای جهان نخواهد بود
Czeslaw Milosz
Song on the End of the World
On the day the world ends
A bee circles a clover,
A Fisherman mends a glimmering net.
Happy porpoises jump in the sea,
By the rainspout young sparrows are playing
And the snake is gold-skinned as it should always be.
On the day the world ends
Women walk through fields under their umbrellas
A drunkard grows sleepy at the edge of a lawn,
Vegetable peddlers shout in the street
And a yellow-sailed boat comes nearer the island,
The voice of a violin lasts in the air
And leads into a starry night.
And those who expected lightning and thunder
Are disappointed.
And those who expected signs and archangels' trumps
Do not believe it is happening now.
As long as the sun and the moon are above,
As long as the bumblebee visits a rose
As long as rosy infants are born
No one believes it is happening now.
Only a white-haired old man, who would be a prophet,
Yet is not a prophet, for he's much too busy,
Repeats while he binds his tomatoes:
No other end of the world there will be,
No other end of the world there will be.
A bee circles a clover,
A Fisherman mends a glimmering net.
Happy porpoises jump in the sea,
By the rainspout young sparrows are playing
And the snake is gold-skinned as it should always be.
On the day the world ends
Women walk through fields under their umbrellas
A drunkard grows sleepy at the edge of a lawn,
Vegetable peddlers shout in the street
And a yellow-sailed boat comes nearer the island,
The voice of a violin lasts in the air
And leads into a starry night.
And those who expected lightning and thunder
Are disappointed.
And those who expected signs and archangels' trumps
Do not believe it is happening now.
As long as the sun and the moon are above,
As long as the bumblebee visits a rose
As long as rosy infants are born
No one believes it is happening now.
Only a white-haired old man, who would be a prophet,
Yet is not a prophet, for he's much too busy,
Repeats while he binds his tomatoes:
No other end of the world there will be,
No other end of the world there will be.
هیچ نظری موجود نیست:
ارسال یک نظر