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The Garden at Gethsemane
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The Garden at Gethsemane |
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Master Senior Member
since 1999-08-18
Posts 1867Boston, MA 
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*This is another one my translations from Russian of a poem by Boris Pasternak. This poem has also appeared in the novel, Dr. Zhivago. Let me know what you think. The Garden at Gethsemane The distant stars were shinning overhead. Their light was cast upon the curving road. The road was laid around Mount Olivet, Somewhere below, a brook, Kedron, had flowed. A meadow was cut off right in the middle And there, the Milky Way came into sight. The grayish olives with their silver glitter, Would try to climb the sky into the night. In distance, stood a garden. He approached, And leaving His disciples by the wall, He said to them, “Wait here for Me. Keep watch, I sense a fatal torment in My soul.” He turned away without exasperation, Like from the things He borrowed in the past, From both, supremacy and domination, And now, He was a mortal, just like us. The widespread darkness now appeared to beckon Into oblivion, to nothingness, to strife. The vastness of the universe was vacant The Garden was alone a place of life. And looking at these chasms in the sky, So empty, limitless, He felt a sudden dread. So that the cup of death would pass Him by, He begged His Father, dripping bloody sweat. With prayer softening the deadly languor, He slowly headed back and saw, appalled, As His disciples, with exhaustion anchored, Were sleeping on the grass beside the wall. He woke them up in rage: “Almighty deemed You worthy of My presence, -- you offend Him. The hour of the Son of Man is here. Into the hands of sinners, He’ll surrender.” Just as He said this, out of nowhere, stormed A mob of slaves, and wanderers assembled. Lights, swords and Judas walking up in front,-- A traitor’s kiss upon his lips still trembled. And Peter then picked up his sword. Unsettled, He cut off someone’s ear in the discord. He hears: “This clash can’t be resolved with metal, Good man, I say to you, put down your sword. Oh, do you think My Father wouldn’t send The winged legion to protect Me here? They’d never touch a hair upon My head,-- Without a trace, My foes would disappear. Know that the book of life has reached that page, More valuable than all the sacred sent. What’s written in the book cannot be changed, Then let it all come true, I say. Amen. You see, My time has reached the final hour Continuing, it may alight in gloom. Thus, in the name of His majestic power, Accepting agony, I’ll step into the tomb. I’ll step into the tomb soon overburdened, And on the third day, I’ll ascent. Into my sight, Like barges of a caravan for verdict The centuries will flow out of the night. |
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| © Copyright 2001 Andrey Kneller - All Rights Reserved | |||
Joyce Johnson
since 2001-03-10
Posts 9912Washington State |
This reads very well. It must be hard to translate and to find rhymes that fit. Very good. Joyce |
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Trillium
since 2001-03-09
Posts 12098Idaho, USA |
A masterful work! Betty Lou Hebert |
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Lighthousebob Member Elite
since 2000-06-14
Posts 4725California |
It amuzes me the shared belief expressed by your continued epic on the subject of Gethsemane and the Crucifixion of Christ... These poems and/or interpretations truly offer many heroic exploits. I do enjoy them and I thank you for sharing. Certainly not a critique, but more of a challenge for you might be to write your next interpretation/poem in Sonnet form using decasyllable lines. You are almost there with this one. Just an idea.... I do enjoy your poetry.... I do-- Bob <>< |
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