Subject
About that birthday sonnet
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Date
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Надо перевести сонет на русский
Melosan@mail.ru has wryly suggested having this exquisite sonnet translated
into Russian, which would be as difficult a feat as composing it must have
been!
In case you missed the full extent of Matt's achievement, due to the
sonorous subtlety of his words, look down the lefthand margin of the sonnet
and think about the Vane sisters. . .
:) SES
Sonnet Nabokov: Hummingbird Moths
Near the end of June all the colors collapsed
At once, the lilac's purple bleeding to gray
Beneath a moist, young moon. A low buzz passed
Overhead, a streak in the dying light of day.
Keen with desire, I followed that telltale song.
Olive and pink, it hovered in the bower,
Vibrating its halo, and dipped its long tongue,
Volute and voluptuous, into a flower.
Or later, in autumn, when there came a freeze,
Killing my mother's flowers all at once,
One could sugar for moths by painting the trees
Black with molasses, slathered across their trunks.
Ablaze in the light of my lantern, they would feed,
Not knowing how their hunger fed my need.
--
Susan Elizabeth Sweeney
Co-Editor, NABOKV-L
Search archive with Google:
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Contact the Editors: mailto:nabokv-l@utk.edu,nabokv-l@holycross.edu
Visit Zembla: http://www.libraries.psu.edu/nabokov/zembla.htm
View Nabokv-L policies: http://web.utk.edu/~sblackwe/EDNote.htm
Visit "Nabokov Online Journal:" http://www.nabokovonline.com
Manage subscription options: http://listserv.ucsb.edu/
Melosan@mail.ru has wryly suggested having this exquisite sonnet translated
into Russian, which would be as difficult a feat as composing it must have
been!
In case you missed the full extent of Matt's achievement, due to the
sonorous subtlety of his words, look down the lefthand margin of the sonnet
and think about the Vane sisters. . .
:) SES
Sonnet Nabokov: Hummingbird Moths
Near the end of June all the colors collapsed
At once, the lilac's purple bleeding to gray
Beneath a moist, young moon. A low buzz passed
Overhead, a streak in the dying light of day.
Keen with desire, I followed that telltale song.
Olive and pink, it hovered in the bower,
Vibrating its halo, and dipped its long tongue,
Volute and voluptuous, into a flower.
Or later, in autumn, when there came a freeze,
Killing my mother's flowers all at once,
One could sugar for moths by painting the trees
Black with molasses, slathered across their trunks.
Ablaze in the light of my lantern, they would feed,
Not knowing how their hunger fed my need.
--
Susan Elizabeth Sweeney
Co-Editor, NABOKV-L
Search archive with Google:
http://www.google.com/advanced_search?q=site:listserv.ucsb.edu&HL=en
Contact the Editors: mailto:nabokv-l@utk.edu,nabokv-l@holycross.edu
Visit Zembla: http://www.libraries.psu.edu/nabokov/zembla.htm
View Nabokv-L policies: http://web.utk.edu/~sblackwe/EDNote.htm
Visit "Nabokov Online Journal:" http://www.nabokovonline.com
Manage subscription options: http://listserv.ucsb.edu/