Vladas Braziūnas
Перевод с литовского: Валерий Изегов
<br/>акваманила
1995.VIII.26
Вильнюс. – 1996. – Март–апрель. – С. 44.
Elena Baliutytė
The Citizen of the Empire of Poetry
Vladas Braziūnas’ collection of verse Vakar yra rytoj (Yesterday is Tomorrow) consists of new works, and verse selected from his eight books: from three collections from Soviet times (Slenka žaibas, 1983, Voro stulpas, 1986 and Suopiai gręžia dangų, 1988) and from Užkalbėti juodą sraują (1989), Alkanoji linksniuotė (1993), Užkalinėti (1998), Ant balto dugno (1999) and lėmeilėmeilėmeilė (2002). Though Braziūnas’ life (he was born in 1952) exteds across several “time zones”, which conditionally could be called Moscow, Lithuanian and European time, there are not many signs of historical time in his work, because he usually speaks about the past, unfinished poetic time, which goes back to mythology, to the archetypal beginnings of “Great Time”. Attention to ethnicity, the tradition of folk art, is one of the most individual components of this poetry, which in the present “European time” has acquired new colours and meanings.
The collection Vakar yra rytoj presents Braziūnas as a distinct poetic individuality, recognised since his very first collection. On the other hand, the spirit of time in this poetry is also alive: in the collections from Soviet times it was expressed in indirect language, during the years of the Sąjūdis movement in a polemical manner, and in the latest poems it is expressed in new themes, in a different model of verse, and even the metrics of the works. The places of many poems coincide with the spaces of international poetry forums (though a short time ago the poet said in an interview that he usually wrote verse in his own country, in his own environment). Does that mean that the “ethnographic” Braziūnas has started creating a “Euro-poem”? It is a paradox, but probably it is so, if we bear in mind that this is a good poem.
The prosesses of regional self-awareness that are intensifying in Europe inspire Braziūnas. He supports the idea of creating poetry not only in a literary language but also in separate dialects. At present, his collection of verse Saula prė laidos, written in his northern dialect from Panevėžys, with a translation in the Standard Lithuanian language and with a compact disc read by the author, are on their way to readers. Some time earlier, together with Markus Roduner, he translated the collection of verse by the Kurt Marti Štai eina žmogus (dialecticali Va ain žmogs, 2004), written in te Bern German dialect, into his own dialect. Braziūnas feels he is a fully fledged subject of the new West European space. In his presence, Cap à l'Est, an assocoation of West European poets, uniting creators speaking the French language, was born. Since Lithuania restored its independence, Braziūnas has declared the double “citizenship” of his verse. He is a citizen not only of the Lithuanian language, hence, a citizen of the ethnic cultural tradition, but also a citizen of the empire of poetry, acording to the specifity of melody covering the historical lands of not only the Balts but also the southeastern Slavs, the Grand Duchy of Lithuania (from the 13th to the 16th century) and the Balkan lands. Many a sphere of Braziūnas’ activities is related to these geopoetical interests. Apart from translations, his latest idea is Magnus Ducatus Poesis (The Grand Duchy of Poetry), established at the Lithuanian embassy in Minsk in 2006, which brings together poets, musicians and other people involved in art from the nations which once lived in the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. It was not a feeling for history that encouraged Braziūnas to create such a society. Translating a great amount of poetry fromdifferent languages, Latvian, French, Polish, Belarussian, Ukrainian, Croatian, Russian and Serbian, he claims to have become convinced that the boundaries of melodious (hence, poetic as well) isoglosses do not coincide with state borders of different languages. According to the specifity of melody, the Balts, the southeastern Slavs and the Balkan lands should belong to the same geographical range.
Has the feeling of a citezen of the empire of poetry had any effect on Braziūnas’ new poetry? International poetry forums, in which he takes an active part, not only initiate new translations but to some extent change poetry itself. It is obvious that his verse has acquired more plot. More signs of the present, the realities of literary life, playfulnes and irony have appeared in it. For example, the 2007 almanac Magnus Ducatus Poesis: ribų įveika (published together with a compact audio and video disc), which was compiled by Braziūnas, who translated most of the verse, is a vivid example of the fact that poets of various nations are currently concerned about similar issues: they speak about an unusual general condition “in the backyard of our undefined Europe”, the general conditions on the border, and problems of identity.
I would explain the friendliness of “European time” to Braziūnas’ work as follows: the archetypicality of his poetic images corresponds in its own way with a collective, often theatricalised, process of art. His work suits poetry festivals, public readings of creative work. He improvises easily on a theme. In 2005 he won the Crystal Vilenica Prize at the Vilenica Literature Festival in Slovenia. In 2006 he won the Year of Latvian Literature Award for his achievements in translating literature, and the award of the Spring of Poetry (also for his translations of poetry). He has also received numerous prizes at the Druskininkai Poetic Fall, and the 2003 Yotvingiai Prize. Braziūnas makes use of the changes in the communications situation in a creative way. He orients his books not only towards the traditional readers of the book, but also towards the listener. The collection of verse Vakar yra rytoj is accompanied by two compact discs, where poems are read by the autor, his colleagues and friends. And the earlier composition Iš naminio audimo dainos (2005) is on the whole a manifold text. Apart from his poetry, it contains a musical component, quotations from folk songs, and autobiographical prose comment.
Creative experiments that catch the spirit of the times are an important thing; however, it is Braziūnas’ poetry itself that the main key to success is hidden. From the very first collection of verse, it did not comply with the concept of traditional psychological lyricism. It contains almost no lyrical, that is, egocentric, themes. The poet speaks about his creative work that “objectively” represents everything, about the archetypal nature of his images, and so on. The poetry is concerned with issues of the scope of the epic regarding the beginning of the ethnos, the nation and the state, about the memory of history, and the myth. His specific poetic language, whish is made archaic and is saturated with dialecticisms, Latvian įords and words from the other languages, corresponds with the themes taken from the past. Nonetheless, all linguistic innovation seems natural, organic, in his verse, as though it were produced by the very flow of the line, and poetic “reconstructions” are meaningful. Apart from all this, it is confirmed by the monograph Mė(lynojo)nulio lingvistika (2007) by the linguist and professor Skirmantas Valentas about Braziūnas’ and Sigitas Geda’s poetry. Gintaras Beresnevičius (1961–2006), a researcher into religion, an ethnographer, writer and essayist, referred to Braziūnas’ poetic language as the Baltic parent language, or the Rococo of barbarians. On the basis of the phonetic consonance of the words, the poet revels in the elements of the language, feeling free and creative. Because of the distinct linguistic, phonetic component of this poetry, it was thought that such poetry is to translate; however, Braziūnas’ work has already been published in separate books in French (2003, 2006 and 2007), Bulgarian (2005) and Slovakian (2006), and separate poems have also been translated into Latvian, Polish, Belarussian, Albanian, English, Italian, Georgian, Croatian, Slovenian, Ukrainian, Romanian, Russian, Swedish and German.
In summing up, we can state that opposite elements are paradoxically matched in Braziūnas’ work: the conservatism of the world outlook, a vocabulary that is made archaic: and a modern form expression; the rhymed, distincly phonetically instrumented quatrain and complicated rhythm; folk motives and postmodern creative projects; the energy of the poetic language and the indistinct subject (though the author is a highly sociable and active citizen, a student of local lore, history and economy, a green and Sąjūdis movement man, currently an initiator of and participant in various cultural campaigns); the “bottom” of the verse of archetypical images (an oak tree, a spring, a mountain, fire, water, a stone, bread). Howerer, individual “patterns” of sounds and meanings are built on it.
Vladas Braziūnas
Vakar yra rytoj
Vilnius: Lietuvių literatūros ir tautosakos institutas, 2007, 312 p.
The Vilnius Review. – 2008. – Spring / summer. – № 23. – P. 52–56. – (books and authors). – Iliust.: Almos Ylekytės (aut. portr.) nuotr. p. 52; kn. virš. nuotr. p. 56. – http://test.svs.lt/?Vilnius;Number%28258%29;Article%286595%2...
Vladas Braziūnas
Translated by Jonas Zdanys
a short history of time
For Lesya Ukrainka listen to him who flinches from the slightest sound follow him closely, be vigilant and meek we talked – about what? about clear acacia honey about the quiet hours of work and rest about dimensions, eternity constantly dividing those who try to divide, but hopelessly, what will you fish out the ocean from a drop or gutter-pipe, from a dew-covered snow-drip breeze draft, light wind, waft – measured by what? perhaps we talked about him? time was already a thaw time blossomed, snowed, did not promise long years, did not discuss illness cooked preserves, read, translated poems, to treat tuberculosis of the bones traveled to Druskininkai, brought salt to Lvov, crystalized herself into classical salt – into a beloved city much like Vilnius, filled with hills and languages, and nations, a city of rowers, at times rambling through fog, at times stroking through sunlight, lost in dreams, the periodically sculling, at times transfiguring into merciful dew, none will understand salt or the lye of cracking calluses dispersed itself in my perforated bones and hair, turned into hoarfrost, romantically speaking, or more commonly – into grayness, turned into a growth on the little toe, into the Bee’s humpback, and still – into clear acacia honey
Fabijoniškės–Druskininkai–Fabijoniškės, 2006.XI.22–XII.3
The Vilnius Review. – 2008. – Spring / summer. – № 23. – P. 61;
http://www.balticsealibrary.info/index.php?option=com_flexic....
Vladas Braziūnas
Translated by Jonas Zdanys
* * *
I find it strange that this time I’m not driving and that someone drives me, that the landscapes change, for the time being familiar, the skies burst into bloom that prophecies remain far away, that it’s allowed to stray into remnants, clearly greater than the whole, to come or no longer coming, a bus rolls by short of breath, slow, toward your childhood brownish-green and blotted unscrutinized places, you’ll doze off, cut across the river the swamps lull to sleep, and swings swing and throw the young upwards, to see the highest mountain and the green woods, the bristled tails of fir trees stand stiff, and oak-grove of browned copper, it rained, it flashes, it drips it’s linden not hard rock hewn by your father’s hands hard blistered, it’s not the mortifications that remain but the calluses on your palms, betraying your origin in black earth, the clay, the blue potter’s clay not blood, wagtails in the hutch under the bridge stack up their old lives, and the new one only so much as there is hope remaining to hatch a young Maybird it didn’t turn toward town, the birch grove flew past with brooms of mistletoe, but perhaps it wasn’t that, perhaps it wasn’t my hunchbacked cottage, wet sheep grazing like a November leaf frozen and unredeemable life shivers by, a fishing line from below from the black depths tugged by a pale- lipped sticky mouth, it’s already Apaščia, from the fog from an unfamiliar customs’ station scrambles a would-be apostle, unconverted, leafs through papers worthy unworthy, doesn’t raise the gate, doesn’t assign a penance of prayers, and so, won’t make my beard Margeris, Peteris, Janis and Juris, I’ll fly a bit along my brimming sea, until they press down the small cross and near my name God’s red marker
Vilnius–Rīga, 2003.XII.3
The Vilnius Review. – 2008. – Spring / summer. – № 23. – P. 59–60.
Vladas Braziūnas
Translated by Jonas Zdanys
near the wide sea
a wind from God, golden, fragrant above the waters grizzling waves, dark gray clouds, through the crack the modest Capuchin’s bald pate, an ice lens refracts shafts of light and bends them to a pinpoint – protoplasmic flames blaze, flutter up to here life in leaps and bounds, the worm flapped and flew off the word slipped and rose on the third day the word was not with God, it struggled in the corrida with the bull, having stolen Europa from Lithuania the author spider legless crusader, don’t call him it will still proclaim, cooled on the balcony, will fly in on the naked broom of projectors the messenger from information’s inferno the unbaptized woodpecker’s variegation silver from time dead in the clock near the amber sea
Vilnius–Šiluva–Rīga–Vilnius, 2005.XII.12–30
The Vilnius Review. – 2008. – Spring / summer. – № 23. – P. 57.
Vladas Braziūnas
Перевод с литовского: Виталий Асовский
<br/>повторяются поколения поэтов
Мы те кого поэзия зовет щенки подростки оводы личинки неправый судит чествует бессильный а мы по их коврам пришли босые щенки подростки оводы личинки свободы сила молодая ждет чтоб возродиться плен слогов разрушив ее опять поэзия зовет поэзия в нас обретает силы мы под ногами ощущаем гравий земных дорог – и правых и неправых из торжества предательства свободы и чувствуем как мы врастаем в гравий а по нему приходят вновь босые щенки подростки – нас ругая с ходу и в них поэзия вновь обретает силы
1987
Литва литературная. - 1987. - № 7. - С. 57.
Vladas Braziūnas
Перевод с литовского: Валерий Изегов
слеза коровка божия
я вижу смерть мой старый облик странный зовет меня не в силах добудиться сквозь сон летит клодунья на баране клевать горох как мертвые и птицы огромный холм свиньею крутобокой ныряет вниз стекая по равнине оливковым напластованьем глины я слышу хрюканье и вижу след глубокий и как-то в сентябре а может марте ужасно голубым был небосвод гулял поэт беспечный обормот махал руками рукава без латок уже не хныкал резал правду-матку что он есть жизнь а я наоборот
1996
Вильнюс. – 1996. – Март–апрель. – С. 46–47.
Vladas Braziūnas
Translated by Jonas Zdanys
</br>yesterday is tomorrow
in my other life as a horse I worked like a horse, during a funeral in the early middle ages in the Prussian contests I was driven exhausted, still alive, into a hole pushed on my knees face down, my front legs bent, pressed up against my breastbone, crack went the first and second vertebrae in my neck, eyes turned to the setting sun, toward overseas fisheaters, rump lifted high in my other life as a horse I sweated in a German mine in Bohemia in rathole darkness, went blind one night, standing under the new moon, they led me to stable, then later slowly at night, as the moon fattened to full, my blinders went wider and wider, they seasoned me in my other life as a horse having brought Mickiewicz from Nowogródek to Wilno I wandered the city’s streets on wooden sandals to die – everyone to that beloved land, to Vilnius now I am an apparition in Belmont it happens too that I’m frightened by thieves and cars in Sereikiškės on my neck dragging a policeman the color of distant woods in my other life as a bird I worked as a nightingale in a town of hills and valleys near the Danube, framed by forests, groves, in fields in Lithuania I wakened the hayreapers in my other life as a bird all just barely dark night long from May to June I went mad, all slavic night long I went to race with evening’s and later with morning’s birds, shutting them all off, the rabid cuckoo of morning still surprised the naked poet Europennies in his pocket, the pocket in the other room love remains, death and recruits you will cuckoo yourself in my other life as a poet I noticed that all French girls, if we travel lay down or fly – put me to sleep, just alongside so we would not have to talk with words or hands, or hot finger pillows or edges of lips, I dream in a closed space
Banská Štiavnica–Bratislava–Vilnius, 2003.VI.1–VI.12
http://www.unesco.it/poesia/babele/poesia/poesia_autori/2005/braziunas.htm;
The Vilnius Review. – 2008. – Spring / summer. – № 23. – P. 58–59;
http://www.lyrikline.org/en/poems/vakar-yra-rytoj-3560?showm...
http://www.balticsealibrary.info/index.php?option=com_flexic....
Vladas Braziūnas
Translated by Antanas Danielius
the root
Braziūnas, Vladas. Poems: Personal pronouns: i [aš; p. 116–117]; you [tu, p. 117]; he [jis; p. 117–118]; we [mes; p. 118]; last night I dreamed for the first time [šiąnakt pirmąkart sapnavau; p. 118–119]; Vilnius Classicism [Vilniaus klasicizmas; p. 119–120]; the old man and the sea [senis ir jūra; p. 120]; "starlings and little birds of hollow…" [„špokai ir mažieji uoksų paukšteliai …”; p. 121]; a bifurcate candlestick received as a present dovanota dviguba žvakidė; p. 121–122]; everything will be a dream about [visa bus sapnas apie; p. 122]; the root [šaknis; p. 122–123] / Translated by A.Danielius // Vilnius: Lithuanian literature, culture, history. - 2001. - Summer. - P. 116–123. www.culture.lt/vilnius/vilnius2001-1/116psl.htm
Vladas Braziūnas
Translated by Antanas Danielius
everything will be a dream about
Braziūnas, Vladas. Poems: Personal pronouns: i [aš; p. 116–117]; you [tu, p. 117]; he [jis; p. 117–118]; we [mes; p. 118]; last night I dreamed for the first time [šiąnakt pirmąkart sapnavau; p. 118–119]; Vilnius Classicism [Vilniaus klasicizmas; p. 119–120]; the old man and the sea [senis ir jūra; p. 120]; "starlings and little birds of hollow…" [„špokai ir mažieji uoksų paukšteliai …”; p. 121]; a bifurcate candlestick received as a present dovanota dviguba žvakidė; p. 121–122]; everything will be a dream about [visa bus sapnas apie; p. 122]; the root [šaknis; p. 122–123] / Translated by A.Danielius // Vilnius: Lithuanian literature, culture, history. - 2001. - Summer. - P. 116–123. www.culture.lt/vilnius/vilnius2001-1/116psl.htm
