Vue des ruines de la forteresse d'Erebuni (fondée en 782 av JC)
qui surplombe Erevan
qui surplombe Erevan
1
I hood my eyes against the savage light ...
Why am I here, and what do I want here ?
Why do these ruins drag me to this place
with the mortal grief of blackened stone ?
Am I the keeper of the dead ?
I mutter
Cain-like :
"Am I their keeper ?"
Graveyard grass crawls over stone,
strong in its underground knowledge.
2
The fortress is immobile
in the haze of noon.
Dead emperors gaze at me
as if their underground labour
has built this world, this city.
Unbeing
long so to be incarnate
to raise altars to itself.
Sculptors of unbeing, emperors
and warriors,
whisper to me :
"Look, here it is,
the capital of our realm."
3
Midday sleep, the veil of sllepy maya,
hides the black earth from my eyes.
Grasses whisper,
rustling, dry,
and it seems I am not I ...
On the town of the dead
heaven rains its flame,
and immobile - straight in my eyes -
a grasshopper stares from a stone
with its fearful faceted gaze.
And pinned to the wall
by premature horror,
I cannot tear myself
from its bulging mica stare,
from the stare of alterity.
4
Above me hangs the dry firmament of the Urarts.
Immortal it floats,
the ancient city,
like a gigantic ark
with its weighty cargo
down the dry bed of underground rivers
un extrait du cycle Erebuni, traduit par Peter France
in An anthology of contemporary Russian women poets, dirigée par Valentina Polukhina et Daniel Weissbort, University of Iowa Press, 2005
in An anthology of contemporary Russian women poets, dirigée par Valentina Polukhina et Daniel Weissbort, University of Iowa Press, 2005
