Пылина Ольга

Я — лингвист -переводчик и преподаватель английского языка. Увлекаюсь литературой — самыми различными жанрами и переводами — как возможностями найти себя.

I’m a linguist-interpreter and a teacher of English. I’m fond of literature and translation as the way to the human nature.


Поэма «Ищу человека»

 

  1. Preface

 

Once could be – like possible what’s up – that wish to bang on and just «not giving up». That’s hope on whichto hold. That is aboutjust a sailor what he was one day: he swam there – somewhere – in Atlantic, or as to say somewhere «amid». It was so powerful – a storm – so furious and rage. The crews worked at full the stretch. All of the sudden, in a pass way,  one day there was a man who had been frozen, he was resembling to a dissolving figure –like shade in fog – who was watching somewhere «down» -through the floor. H just said to himself : «I couldn’t. That’s enough. I’m too much fed up» — that day he failed and was fallen by the board. The sailor did that he could in helping at the aft; but he had a broken arm, but does it matter what’s up!? That  also was a work, he meant. He’d ever seen a lot of and too much and all: pours, gusts, faded domes and body by the board: that was limply falling and in silent air one’s blue wild look and all the arms and voice what was ablare. «Why don’t you ?» — he was crying overwhere – «there’s someone there — overboard». The answer is a silent with guilty hanging heads at something stared.

And he just plunged but what he could to do with help of one hand, cause one another –ailing at the wound. So, as result, he sank down until he was got up and been awaken. He was so quiet, quiet, and so, that he unmoored as it was possible: at closest onshore – wherein a pub – that was a Mecca for everyone of sailors – there –he was called by someone who just asked: «What are you? And whom are you looking for…here?». The answer in his look: «I’m looking for a Human…everywhere».

 

 

«I’m lookimg for a Human…» But what for, who knows? Why do we have so many poems, romans the plot is about such a going – the going around and into, for a sense of living on the planet? Does everyone exist in trying to find some kind of kindred or himself in soulmate!? I don’t think so, oh no, not like this, this is for a Human as it’s needed to be for him – with initial letter. This is about to tell the Human a lot – it may be foolish, absurd, for nothing – but to tell about all your life in a way so honestly and truthful. But is it all? What will be next: been dead – revive just after telling? Is it to hear out him to know what for he lives or  how he is here? What is it like to have the world on someone’s shoulders – without mentioning a flexion of his road? There’s always someone – a lightbringer – zipping around, he is (I know) somewere — that’s crucial. One moment is you think – that’s him like light that was turned on, but no one – just only a moment of a levin. The humanity is and near it we need to write out all of the features thoroughly. There’s  no gauge for it – humanity isn’t competitive, so you could write the entreaty: for love to your God –so, what the sense of such a dowdy style letter? The choice of genre could be enough – that’s for this world but yonder.

 

  1. Anti-utopia

Once one wise man who watched through window said: «There’s some who revive but all of them are enclosed somewhere. What for do you need Him? That’s ludicrous – He is an abstraction, a ghost, a vapor – chimera. It’s sure I can if you want – I guideyou wherever you want, a rate is so known for every.» Then he just added grinning like dog: « Look around for Human here and know every wolf is like a man for a Human ». The sailor entered and saw: how many of them are here in keeping their untouchable quiet like a hospital client and surrounds for them are the walls – as stench and thin like a paper.  «I’m just looking for… here». But all is around – a trash and all stuff and a mirk from every place where so much of rubbish or raggery; someone said in a rasp wild voice: «You are here so needless that more than epactal. So, just go, get away with your skin. There’s lot of us who think that the light is so hurtful and harmful. Don’t burn us by heart here. What are you crying about? We wouldn’t give up ever. That’s for us. Just get up and go away or you’ll be hitted.»  And he wandered all over in looking: «for Human» here and there –he was everywhere: in every ward, he passed all the floor of this… .

 

  1. Essay

Ye, we  all always need something badly — in the moment — of desire or of great plans for the future of us; but does it matter? May be sometimes we need to find out a risk to look for the perfectness amid the norms. It’s like a cry, as the fog that falls down by plums on the field, lacerating a pharynx. This is a trying of finding yourself through the striving even if chances go to the zero. Discovering – always- such a thing as commotion or something about an inner rebellion: emptiness, deficiency, shortage – in absolute way –it’s a sprout in a stage of the bourgeon instead of the going through a solid – for knowing himself – as He is or He has to; He  has to be found like the gold standard but not as resemblance . It’s not just to love or be loved but to be an admired… — that’s for this sailor what he wanted to be. There’s lots of the ones who saw some like Him in a passing through their throngs and masses. Such individuals like Him have something extra in the faces of them, for them a reward is the most precious, for them – in such otiose trying to find – the sacrifice can be senses and peace. So, what’s with Him — our hero through years? Is he the same as he was – with his scare and downtrodden by it or he has an exhaustion delirium then – after years? Out of  windows a town is white: like under flour but He, He is pacing, convincing: «There’s a man in an enclosure and the enclosure – in box, that is on tree…hiding himself in the lines of the speeches ».

  1. Lyric

It was an hour before the night penetrated a world – when he was wandering round hidden and lost. He babbled something through mouth (but we didn’t know what) –it was in a way so elusive and chewed. And it was (we didn’t know,that’s no guaranteedalso) may be a lament or calling just someone or may be an appeal – with his groans – that he knocked at my door padded by wadding and came in. «What for are you here? So, too much – that’s enough, just forget. It’s a fault — you couldn’t be right –here is no Him (a Human) as wherever you saw. My monster that is right inside is gnawing through chest – it’s so bited and nibbled that I need to pour all the cells of it. Don’t you think that the Man whom you are looking for here is in the wild mass of ocean or like a moth is in kell from where at time he needs to get out. My monster becomes so huge as a house and he continues to grow that now he goes out – getting through all of the windows but he is not gone. While he devours all Gods and all kings, he swallows up others – the bums and the beggars. So, go on! Trough everyone’s fields, and, may be, one day, you could find anyway whom you are looking for – a Human. »He wanted to say something — to try to disprove: he touched me but then just go on – far away –further without a saying a word. May be one day he’ll find what he wants but where is he just right now I don’t know – ploughing seas or the try is to find? I’ve heard he wanders other places and wards, paces floors. But I don’t believe it, I think he is so plucky that just has what he wants or is looking — continuesand is trying to findwhat he wants.

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