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June 20,2015

 

 

Philip Larkin (England, 1922-1985)

 

 

Annus Mirabilis

 

 

Sexual intercourse began
In nineteen sixty-three
(which was rather late for me) -
Between the end of the Chatterley ban
And the Beatles' first LP.

Up to then there'd only been
A sort of bargaining,
A wrangle for the ring,
A shame that started at sixteen
And spread to everything.

Then all at once the quarrel sank:
Everyone felt the same,
And every life became
A brilliant breaking of the bank,
A quite unlosable game.

So life was never better than
In nineteen sixty-three
(Though just too late for me) -
Between the end of the Chatterley ban
And the Beatles' first LP.

 

 

     Annus mirabilis

 

 

Οι σεξουαλικές σχέσεις άρχισαν
Το χίλια εννιακόσια εξήντα τρία
(Σχετικά αργά για μένα) —
Μεταξύ της άρσης της απαγόρευσης του Τσάτερλυ
Και του πρώτου των Μπητλς μεγάλου δίσκου.

 

Μέχρι τότε είχε υπάρξει μόνον
Ένα είδος παζαρέματος
Ένας καβγάς για κάποιο δαχτυλίδι
Μια ντροπή που πρωτάρχισε στα δεκάξι
Κι απλώθηκε παντού.

 

Ύστερα αίφνης η φιλονικία ξεχάστηκε:
Οι πάντες αισθάνθηκαν το ίδιο,
Και του καθενός η ζωή κατέληξε
Μια ευφυής ανατροπή της μπάνκας,
Ένα εντελώς κερδοφόρο παιχνίδι.

 

Επομένως η ζωή δεν υπήρξε ποτέ καλύτερη
Από το χίλια εννιακόσια εξήντα τρία
(Αν και είναι πολύ αργά για μένα) —
Μεταξύ της άρσης της απαγόρευσης του Τσάτερλυ
Και του πρώτου των Μπητλς μεγάλου δίσκου.

 

 

 

(μετάφραση: Χάρης Βλαβιανός)

 

Sunny Prestatyn

 

 

 

Come to Sunny Prestatyn
Laughed the girl on the poster,
Kneeling up on the sand
In tautened white satin.
Behind her, a hunk of coast, a 
Hotel with palms
Seemed to expand from her thighs and
Spread breast-lifting arms.

She was slapped up one day in March.
A couple of weeks, and her face 
Was snaggle-toothed and boss-eyed;
Huge tits and a fissured crotch
Were scored well in, and the space
Between her legs held scrawls
That set her fairly astride 
A tuberous cock and balls

Autographed Titch Thomas, while
Someone had used a knife
Or something to stab right through
The moustached lips of her smile.
She was too good for this life.
Very soon, a great transverse tear
Left only a hand and some blue.
Now Fight Cancer is there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dublinesque

 

 

Down stucco sidestreets,
Where light is pewter
And afternoon mist
Brings lights on in shops
Above race-guides and rosaries,
A funeral passes.

The hearse is ahead,
But after there follows
A troop of streetwalkers
In wide flowered hats,
Leg-of-mutton sleeves,
And ankle-length dresses.

There is an air of great friendliness,
As if they were honouring
One they were fond of;
Some caper a few steps,
Skirts held skilfully
(Someone claps time),

And of great sadness also.
As they wend away
A voice is heard singing
Of Kitty, or Katy,
As if the name meant once
All love, all beauty.

 

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