Ang Wakas at ang Simula (Wislawa Szymborska)

Burador, as useless. Gusto ko ng UP diksyunaryong filipino. Medyo 
nirepaso: ika-5 ng Nobyembre 2012. May kopya ako ng salin ni 
Joseph Brodsky nitong parehong tula. Maisalin din kaya? 

Ang Wakas at ang Simula

salin ni Tilde Acuña ng salin 
ni Joanna Trzeciak ng tula 
ni Wislawa Szymborska

Matapos ang bawat digmaan

mayroong dapat magligpit.

Hindi isasaayos ng mga bagay
ang kanilang mga sarili, sa kabila ng lahat.

Mayroong dapat magtabi ng kalat

sa isang gilid ng kalsada,

upang makadaan

ang karitong puno ng bangkay.

Mayroong dapat na lumusong

sa latak at abo,

sa mga pako ng silya,

sa mga bubog,

at sa mga duguang katya.

Mayroong dapat humila sa tahilan

upang isandal sa dingding.

Mayroong dapat magpakintab ng bintana,

magkabit muli ng pinto.

Hindi ito maganda sa paningin,

at tumatagal nang ilang taon.

Lumisan na ang lahat ng kamera

para sa isa pang giyera.

Kakailanganin nating ibalik ang mga tulay,

pati ang mga bagong estasyon ng tren.

Magugulanit ang mga manggas

mula sa pagkakarolyo nito.

Tangan ang walis, mayroong

mga makakaalala pa rin ng nakagisnan.

Mayroong isa pang nakikinig

at tumatango nang may ulong hindi napugot.

Pero mayroon ding mga nasa di-kalayuang

nagsisimulang magbilang ng poste

at mapapagtantong nakakabato ito.

Mula sa halamanan

paminsa'y mayroong nakakabungkal

ng mga katwirang kinalawang na

at dadalhin ang mga ito sa tambak ng basura.

Ang mga nakakaalam

kung anong nagaganap dito'y

marapat na gumawa ng paraan para

sa mga kapos ang nalalaman.

At mas kaunti kaysa kapos.

At sa huli, singkaunti ng wala.

Sa damuhang lumabis ang paglago

ng mga sanhi at mga bunga,

mayroong dapat magpalawig

talim ng damo sa kanyang bibig

tumutunghay sa langit.

[ni zdzislaw beksinski (source)]

***baka gusto mo isalin [source]***

Love at First Sight

translated by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh

They're both convinced

that a sudden passion joined them.

Such certainty is beautiful,

but uncertainty is more beautiful still.

Since they'd never met before, they're sure

that there'd been nothing between them.

But what's the word from the streets, staircases, hallways --

perhaps they've passed each other a million times?

I want to ask them

if they don't remember --

a moment face to face

in some revolving door?

perhaps a "sorry" muttered in a crowd?

a curt "wrong number" caught in the receiver?

but I know the answer.

No, they don't remember

They'd be amazed to hear

that Chance has been toying with them

now for years.

Not quite ready yet

to become their Destiny,

it pushed them close, drove them apart,

it barred their path,

stifling a laugh,

and then leaped aside.

There were signs and signals,

even if they couldn't read them yet.

Perhaps three years ago

or just last Tuesday

a certain leaf fluttered

from one shoulder to another?

Something was dropped and then picked up.

Who knows, maybe the ball that vanished

into childhood's thicket?

There were doorknobs and doorbells

where one touch had covered another

beforehand.

Suitcases checked and standing side by side.

One night, perhaps, the same dream,

grown hazy by morning.

Every beginning

is only a sequel, after all,

and the book of events

is always open halfway through.

Commemoration

translated by Joanna Trzeciak

They made love among the hazel shrubs

beneath the suns of dew,

entangling in their hair

a leafy residue.

Heart of the swallow

have mercy on them.

They knelt down by the lake,

combed out the earth and leaves,

and fish swam to the water's edge

shimmering like stars.

Heart of the swallow

have mercy on them.

The reflections of trees were steaming

off the rippling waves.

O swallow let this memory

forever be engraved.

O swallow, thorn of clouds,

anchor of the air,

Icarus improved,

Assumption in formal wear,

O swallow, the calligrapher,

timeless second hand,

early ornithogothic,

a crossed eye in the sky,

O swallow, pointed silence,

mourning full of joy,

halo over lovers,

have mercy on them.