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POPOL VUH (français / anglais / islandais)

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                                          La Création

 

POPOL VUH

 

« Here is the story of the beginning,
When there was not one bird,
Not one fish,
Not one mountain.
Here is the sky, all alone.
Here is the sea, all alone.

There is nothing more
- no sound, no movement.
Only the sky and the sea.
Only Heart-of-Sky, alone.”

            Popol Vuh, The Creation

 

Tout se tait à présent : les tendres feuilles des trembles,

La maison, la vallée aux iris, les nids des oiseaux.

 

Pourquoi ce soir les Maya-Quiché hantent-ils mon esprit ?

Qu’ai-je de commun avec eux, moi, le thrace amateur de chevaux,

Le poète amoureux des splendeurs de Byzance,

L’Ami de Dieu épris des grands mystiques chrétiens ?

 

Il est vrai :

D’autres pensées ont tourmenté toute la journée mon âme -

Comment représenter en poésie le vent,

Comment exprimer le silence, la lumière, sa clarté, sa pureté.

Comment apprendre à ne jamais confondre le beau

Et le haut savoir-faire ?

 

Qu’ai-je à faire de la cosmogonie Quiché,

De la légende de ses divinités malfaisantes :

Gukup Cakix et ses fils Zipacna et Capracan

Qui firent surgir tous les volcans de la Terre

Et tuèrent les deux magnifiques adolescents,

Junajup et Ixbalamqué, dont l’âme débordait

De bonté et de miséricordieuse connaissance ?

 

Oui, en réalité,

Qu’ai-je à faire

Des entreprises guerrières des Ajup au pays de Xibalba ?

 

Pourquoi m’émeuvent tant l’histoire de la princesse Ixquic,

Mère merveilleuse de Junajup et Ixbalamqué,

L’apparition des illustres chefs des puissantes familles Maya :

Balam Quitze, Balam Akap, Majucutaj et Iqui Balam,

Le mystérieux récit d’Ixtaj et d’Ixpuch, les deux jeunes

Filles qui tentèrent de séduire les nouveaux dieux par leur beauté?

 

Ô mon âme, ô mon cœur, allez, avancez,

Voyageurs amoureux des énigmes de la Création!

Peut-être est-ce ainsi que s’affinent

Ma voix poétique et mon être -

Connivence entre les hommes et les choses ?

Peut-être est-ce ainsi que rajeunissent les mots ?

 

Quelqu’un ici connaît-il encore la réponse ?

 

Je m’appuie contre le trône du frêne

Devant ma maison, face vers l’écorce,

Je le caresse. Lui et moi, nous sommes maintenant

L’unique réponse dans la nuit qui approche,

Lui et moi nous sommes, à cet instant même,

Toute l’éternité !

 

Une brise légère se lève.

Elle remplit de chauds murmures mon ouïe

Comme si elle voulait accoutumer ma bouche

A la suave douceur des fruits.

 

            Athanase Vantchev de Thracy

 

A Paris, ce dimanche 22 février, Anno Christi MMIV

Glose :

Popol Vuh : il s’agit d’un très important document historique, littéraire et religieux concernant le peuple Maya-Quiché (Mexique méridional, Yucatan, Guatemala). Il peut être considéré comme la Bible d’un Peuple qui avant Christophe Colomb fut parmi les plus civilisés du Nouveau Monde. Ecrit dans la langue Quiché en caractères latins (1557 ap. J.-C.), il fut longtemps attribué à un certain Diego Reynoso. Le document fut découvert à Santo Tomas Chichicastenango à la fin du XVIIe siècle par le frère Francisco Ximénez qui le traduisit en espagnol.

 

ENGLISH :

THE CREATION

 

 « Here is the story of the beginning,
When there was not one bird,
Not one fish,
Not one mountain.
Here is the sky, all alone.
Here is the sea, all alone.
There is nothing more
- no sound, no movement.
Only the sky and the sea.
Only Heart-of-Sky, alone.”
 

      Popol Vuh, The Creation

 

All is silent now: the tender leaves of the aspens,
the house, the valley full of irises, the birds' nests.  

Why tonight am I haunted by the Quiche-Maya?
What do I have in common with them, me, the Thracian horse lover,
the poet in love with the glories of Byzantium,
the Friend of God with a passion for the great Christian mystics?  

It's true:
all day other thoughts have tormented my soul
-how to represent the wind in verse,
how to express silence, light, its brightness, its purity,
how to learn never to confuse beauty
with superior savoir-faire.  

Why should the Quiche creation myths matter to me,
these legends of evil gods:
Wuqub' Kaqix and his sons Zipcana and Cabrakan
who made all the volcanoes on earth erupt
and killed the two magnificent youths

Hunahpu and Xbalanque, whose souls overflowed
with goodness and consciousness of mercy?  

Yes, in the real world,
why should Acab's wars in the country of Xibalba
matter to me?  

Why am I so moved by the story of Princess Xquic,
marvellous mother of Hunahpu and Xbalanque,
by the rise of the illustrious chiefs of the powerful Maya families,
Balam Quitzé, Balam Acab, Mahucutah and Iqui-Balam,
by the mysterious tale of Ixtah and Ixpuch, the two
girls who tried to seduce the new gods with their beauty?  

O my soul, O my heart, go on, take this journey,
you travellers in love with the riddles of creation!
Perhaps this is how
my poet's voice and my being can become more acute -
through this complicity between men and things?
Perhaps this is how to give my words new blood?  

Does anyone here know if this is true?

I lean against the ash trunk
in front of my house, face to the bark
I caress it. Only the ash and I have
the answer in the approaching night,
the ash and I who are, at this very moment,
the whole of eternity!  

A light breeze rises.
It fills my ears with warm murmurs
as if it wanted to make my mouth used
to the mellow sweetness of fruit.  

            Athanase Vantchev de Thracy

Translated into English by Norton Hodges

 ISLANDAIS : 

 SKÖPUNIN   

„Hér er saga upphafsins,

Þá var enginn fugl,

Ekki neinn fiskur,

Ekki neitt fjall.

Hér er himinninn, aleinn

Hér er hafið aleitt

Það er ekkert fleira

-ekki hljóð, ekki hreyfing.

Aðeins himinn og haf.

Aðeins Himna-Hjarta, aleitt.“

      Popol Vuh
     The Creation

Allt er nú hjótt: viðkvæmt asparlaufið,

húsið, dalurinn fullur af írisum, hreiðrin.

 

Hví er ég í kvöld ásóttur af Quiche Mayum?

Hvað á ég sameiginlegt með þeim, ég Þrakverskur unnandi hesta,

skáldið sem ann dýrð Býsans,

Vinur Guðs haldinn ástríðu fyrir hinum miklu kristnu dulspekingum?

 

Satt er það:

alla daga hafa aðrar hugsanir kvalið sál mína

-hvernig lýsa skal vindinum í versi,

hvernig túlka þögn, birtu, skærleik hennar, hreinleika,

hvernig læra skal að rugla aldrei saman fegurð og mannasiðum.

 

Hví skyldu sköpunarmýtur Quiche skipta mig máli,

þessar þjóðsagnir um illa guði:

Wuqub‘ Kaqix og syni hans Zipcana og Cabrakan

sem létu öll eldfjöll á jörðu gjósa

og drápu glæsilegu ungmennin

Hunahpu og Zbalanque, en sálir þeirra voru barmafullar

af gæsku og meðvitund um miskunn?

 

Já, í raunheiminum,

hví skyldi stríð Acabs í landi Xibalba

skipta mig máli?

 

Hví er ég svo snortinn af sögunni af Xquic prinsessu,

dýrðlegri móður Hunahpu og Xbalanque,

við uppgang hinna frægu höfðingja máttugu Maya fjölskyldnanna,

Balam Quitzé, Balam Acab, Mahucutah og Iqui-Balam,

af dulmagnaðri sögunni af Ixtah og Ixpuch, tveimur

stúlkum sem reyndu að tæla nýju guðina með fegurð sinni?

 

Ó sál mín, ó, hjarta mitt, farið, farið þessa ferð,

þið ferðalangar sem elskið gátur sköpunarinnar!

Kannski þetta sé til þess

að skáldrödd mín og tilvera öðlist meira næmi-

fyrir þessa samsekt manna og hluta?

Kannski þetta sé til þess að orð mín öðlist nýtt blóð?

 

Veit einhver hér hvort þetta sé satt?

 

Ég halla mér að stofni asksins

framan við hús mitt, með andlitið að berkinum

ég gæli við hann. Aðeins askurinn og ég eigum

svarið á komandi nóttu,

askurinn og ég sem erum, á þessu andartaki,

öll eilífðin!

 

Léttur andvari hefst.

Hann fyllir eyru mín hlýju muldri

líkt og hann vildi venja munn minn

við mildan sætleik ávaxta.

 

            Athanase Vantchev de Thracy

Traduit en islandais par Hrafn Andrés Hardarson

 

 

Mis à jour ( Mardi, 22 Mars 2011 22:33 )