我が国は西側陣営なので、ロシアの情報はなかなか入ってこない。いや、「敵側」のフィルターがかったものばかり、という印象だ。大昔、成人祝いに『ドストエフスキー全集』を古書で買おうとしたほどのロシア文学ファンである小生は、そこで、ロシア詩でも朗読してみるか、と調べるなかで出会ったのがヴェリミール・フレーブニコフの『笑いの呪文』だった。 しかし、学生時代、せいぜいドイツ語を第二外国語として学んだだけの小生には、ロシア語の音読などハードが高過ぎる。それでもアプリ再生で練習を重ねるうちに、「超絶誤訳・音声変換」で読むことを思い付いた。難しいロシア語発音を日本語に当てて、忠実な翻訳ではない、全く別の詩作を試みることにしたのである。折りしもイラン戦争中で、そんな情勢にも触発を受けることとなった。 狂言風に詠んでみた。（謳ってみた）。もともと「笑いの呪文」だけに、狂言が合っていると思った。動画は映像を添えられるので、言葉と絵のコラボが互いの「語られない部分」を補ってくれる。そのギャップが際立つものが出来たと思う。 As our country belongs to the Western bloc, information from Russia is not easily accessible. Or rather, much of what we receive feels filtered through the lens of an “enemy.” As someone who has long been fond of Russian literature—so much so that I once considered buying a second-hand complete works of Fyodor Dostoevsky as a coming-of-age gift—I found myself wondering if I might try reading Russian poetry aloud. It was in that process that I encountered Velimir Khlebnikov’s "Incantation by Laughter." However, having studie...
I learned from social media that a stunningly beautiful woman lived in a mansion on a hill where nightly soirees were held, so despite my age, I dressed in my finest clothes, picked a bouquet of crape myrtle from my garden, and set out with my cane, only to find an “Off-limits” sign at the base of the hill, causing me to hesitate until suspicious glances from fireworks spectators passing by in the gathering dusk compelled me to timidly start my ascent, whereupon the stone steps, as slippery as ice, forced me to stow my bouquet and cane in my belt and crawl on all fours, with the dimly glowing stones groaning, “Hiyah, hiyah” beneath my hands, leading me to think, “Oh man. Some guy is already enjoying this,” as I crawled, suppressing my excitement and trembling hips, and then the groans turned into sorrowful cries of “I’m coming,” “Don’t go,” making me glance back to see the distant figures of a policeman and the fireworks crowd below, who looked as small as on a smartphone screen, just as a thunderous bang and tremor shook my elderly body, causing me to collapse onto the steps, which I then realized were sunburned skin, as I saw lips, eyes, and other male parts glistening in the
iridescent light of a climaxing firework, with tongues lolling from the mouths, pleading, “I’m coming,” “Don’t go,” both sensually and pitifully, prompting me to reflect on how some continue to cling even when flattened, while others repent and offer warnings, adding the sheen of my tears to the sebum and bodily fluids on this midsummer night, a tale of horror that blurs the line between dream and reality.
投稿
コメント
コメントを投稿