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May (Excerpt)
May (Excerpt)
hynek
mácha
drawings by
Jindfiich ·tyrsk ˘
isbn 978-80-86264-22-6
contents
• 7•
Introduction
• 21 •
may
Introduction
7
Czech nationalists to European intellectual and literary cur-
rents, which eventually allowed for a modernization of Czech
verse.
Historians have pointed out that the tragedy of Czech
thought and literature is the fact that it has often spent its
strength on the parochial. As necessary as it was to revive the
Czech language, explore folk poetry and national myths, and
refashion a national identity, these tasks in and of themselves
are not sufficient for the creation of great, or even interesting,
literature. Mácha’s attempt at a great literature involved
connecting with European literary currents and universal
themes through a passionate exploration of intensely personal
obsessions and demons. In the creation of May he stretched
the Czech language to perform in innovative ways and bor-
rowed from Italian landscape, Byronic themes, and local
scandal.
To prepare Czech literature for its new task, Mácha intro-
duced the iamb at a time in which, as Milada Souãková, a
scholar of Czech Romanticism, puts it, “for the Czechs there
was no living tradition of poetics.” Czech medieval and folk
poetry features consistent numbers of syllables per line, but
word stresses per line are not consistent. Czech Renaissance
poetry, on the other hand, does feature consistent word
8
stress, with the dactyl the most common meter, since in
Czech the stress falls regularly on the first syllable of each
word. Another option would have been to use the contrast
between short and long vowels, as vowel length is independ-
ent of stress. The Romantics and later poets often worked
with vowel length, usually in combination with stress.
Obviously, the meter alone does not account for the fact
that May is one of the most melodious works of literature in
the Czech language. Mácha also experimented with various
degrees of onomatopoeia, setting the mood of a stanza
through the sounds of the words, as when the prisoner’s
chains thunder. He uses silence, as indicated by the long
dash, as well as sound, as when the prisoner marks the pass-
ing of time with the sound of a water drop:
9
Mácha’s language is most sonorous in its description of
the landscape of May, which seems to be a composite of the
exotic and the local, the physical and the psychological:
10
Austria to Milan and Venice. Scholars have speculated that
Mácha’s description of the lake that reflects the white cottages
and the prison tower is influenced by impressions the poet
gathered in Italy, or descriptions from German-language
travel magazines:
11
un-Czech. It did not serve or promote a national ideal; it was
not patriotic. Nor were Mácha’s personal sartorial choices —
a red-lined cape, a feathered hat — and his Romantic obses-
sion with the individual. Indeed, the poem’s tensions, which
stem from a combination of ardent passion, fatalism, self-
irony, and a deep appreciation for nature, seem to recognize
that individual expression will always be checked by the
social mores of the majority. The hero, Vilém, dies because he
has, in fulfilling his fate, violated a social law:
12
questionable honor. He also died young, just before his
twenty-sixth birthday, on November 5, 1836. He was buried
in Litomûfiice on the day he was to have married Lori, the
mother of his child. He had moved to the town just thirty-
eight days before to study for his law exams at Prague
University and was employed as a legal assistant in the law
firm of Filip Duras. Although he died in poverty and neglect
— his landlord’s wife was the only one to concern herself
with his illness — and his work was not enthusiastically
received, a hundred years later, in March 1939, his remains
were exhumed and given a formal state burial in Prague’s
Slavín Cemetary at Vy‰ehrad. Although he is most known for
May, Mácha also published a number of poems, a collection
of autobiographical sketches titled Pictures from My Life, and
a novel, Gypsies. His diaries and letters were published
posthumously.
13
hexameter, reflect a more philosophical or expository tone.
Fortunately, even the iambic tetrameter is not slavish, so that
the meter never overpowers the language and the internal
music of the poem. Mácha made intelligent use of the
caesura, omitting an occasional beat in the implied pause of
the line. My translation showcases the meter, and Mácha’s
skillful flexibility within it.
Mácha’s painstaking attention to the unity of form and
content is obvious also in his language choices. In the Czech,
the description of Vilém’s mental state in prison, the noises
of the prison, and the sweet forest horn from outside, are
rendered in words that mimic the sounds they depict. In
English there are no equivalents, but I have used words of
old Germanic origins to convey the harshness and dishar-
mony of the situation whenever possible, and words of
Romance-language origin to convey sweetness and beauty.
I have not attempted to reproduce the rhyme of the
poem, though most of the poem is written in an abba pattern.
The language’s seven cases and extremely flexible sentence
structure make rhyme sound natural in Czech. Rhyme in
Czech poetry today does not clash with contemporary sensi-
bility. Since English sentence structure is not as flexible, and
since English does not have as many rhyming word as Czech,
14
the contortions of the English sentence would draw undue
attention to the mechanics of the poem at the expense of the
highly innovative imagery and the natural music of the orig-
inal. I have tried to compensate with assonance and conso-
nance whenever possible.
Readers will notice that the style of the dedication is
remarkably facile compared to the rest of the poem. It is filled
with jingoisms, clichés, and written in a rather galloping
meter. Mácha added the dedication in response to the feel-
ings of indignation and anger that the original poem stirred
in his colleagues. Members of the Pan-Slavic movement felt
betrayed by the fact that May made no mention of national-
ism, and celebrated such sensationalistic themes as the love
between a criminal and his “wilted rose,” patricide, and deca-
dence. One gets the impression that Mácha dashed off the
dedication in a highly ironic and disgusted mood. Surely
adjectives such as “invincible” in reference to the Czech army
are sarcastic, given the political reality of the time. The dedi-
cation also draws upon the myth of the Czech nation
founded on kinship — the idea that all Czechs are “brothers”
— which originates in the legend of Queen Libu‰e and her
proletariat husband Pfiemsyl. I have not attempted to beau-
tify the tired language or meter of Mácha’s dedication.
15
May is a difficult poem. Its images are complex; its sen-
tence structure is unwieldy, and the vocabulary contains
words that are unkown to today’s Czech speakers. I would
never have attempted to translate it without the practical and
moral support from my Czech friends and colleagues, whose
boundless enthusiasm and generosity sustained me. Petr
Kaláb introduced me to Maj and to Mácha’s romantic coun-
tryside, the “lake, forests, mountains and valley” mentioned
in the poem. We explored them on a motorcycle instead of
on foot. This is the area called Kokofiínsko, which includes
Máchovo jezero (Lake Mácha), which in Mácha’s time had
simply been called Velk˘ rybník (the big fish pond). We saw
Bezdûz, a ruined castle Mácha’s imagination transformed to
fit the poem. The region is exquisite, with rolling, forested
hills and lush, green fields, wild roses, and unexpected vistas.
Magdalena Eliá‰ová showed me Mácha’s house and the
museum dedicated to him in Litomûfiice. Markéta and Irena
Pavlaãíková were enthusiastic and well informed supporters
of the project. Most importantly, I thank Michala
Kudláãková, Michal Prchlík, and Ludek Bûlehrad for entire
spring days spent dissecting sentences, looking up obscure
words, and delving into complex conceits. Karel Kudláãek
and Michala Kudláãková graciously extended their home in
16
âeské Budûjovice whenever I needed it. At the University of
Texas at Austin, Craig Cravens provided the invaluable serv-
ice of reading the penultimate draft for accuracy. Finally, I am
grateful for financial assistance from the University of Texas
College of Liberal Arts and the Center for Russian and
Eastern European Studies for summer grants.
m a rc e l a s u l a k
May 2005
17
The following poem is intended primarily to celebrate
the beauty of nature in May; to facilitate this, the
seasonal nature of May is set opposite the different
seasons of a human life. For example, in the first
canto the quiescent, solemn etc. love found in nature
is set against the wild, passionate, unbridled love found
in man; and other qualities of May nature are likewise
set against similar seasons of human life in the other
cantos. The tale this poem relates, its plot, should not
be considered what is most important, and only as
much of it is given as is unavoidably necessary for the
poem to achieve its primary intention. The events take
place near the town of Hir‰berg, amid the hills upon
which sit the castles of Bezdûz, Pern‰tejn, Houska,
and in the distance, Roll, pointing East, West, North,
and South. — As for any other intentions, as well as
sententia moralis, these are more readily intimated
from the work as a whole.
k.h. mácha
I would like to speak to the whole world, to
the stars, but — I can only speak to my
nation! and to those few in it who hear me
— and understand me? — No one!!
DalekáÈ cesta má!
Marné volání!!
Long is my journey!
Futile cry!!
i
33
Ouplné lÛny krásná tváfi —
tak bledû jasná jasnû bledá,
jak milence milenka hledá —
ve rÛÏovou vzplanula záfi;
na vodách obrazy své zfiela,
a sama k sobû láskou mfiela.
Dál bly‰til bled˘ dvorÛ stín,
jenÏ k sobû ‰ly vzdy blíÏ a blíÏ,
jak v objetí by níÏ a níÏ,
se vinuly v soumraku klín,
aÏ posléz ‰erem v jedno splynou.
S nimi se stromy k stromÛm vinou. —
Nejzáze stíní ‰ero hor,
tam bޒza k boru, k bڒze bor
se kloní. Vlna za vlnou
potokem spûchá. Vfie plnou —
v ãas lásky — láskou kaÏd˘ tvor.
Za rÛÏového veãera
pod dubem sliãná dûva sedí,
se skály v bfiehu jezera
daleko pfies jezero hledí.
The lovely face of the full moon —
so palely light, so lightly pale,
like one, beloved, seeks her love —
enflamed into a rosy flush
because she’d seen her watery face,
and she was dying of love for herself.
The far white cottages’ images glowed
and drew together, closer, close,
as if embracing, lower, low,
then flowed into the sunset’s womb,
there finally in the twilight merged into one.
With them, the trees converged with trees. —
Behind, the mountains cast their gloom,
where birch to pine and pine to birch
inclined. And wave pursuing wave
rushed through the stream. Yes, every being —
in love’s time — overflowed with love.
35
To se jí modro k nohoum vine,
dále zelenû zakvítá,
vzdy zelenûji prosvítá,
aÏ v dálce v bledé jasno splyne.
Po ‰íro‰íré hladinû
umdlel˘ dívka zrak upírá;
po ‰íro‰íré hladinû
nic mimo promyk hvûzd nezírá.
Dívãina krásná, anjel padl˘,
co amarant na jaro svadl˘,
v ubledl˘ch lících krásy spûjí.
Hodina, jenÏ jí v‰ecko vzala,
ta v usta, zraky, ãelo její
pÛvabn˘ Ïal i smutek psala. —
“Viz,” plavec k ní
tich˘mi slovy ‰epce praví:
“Tam pfii jezeru víÏka ãní
nad stromÛ noc; její bíl˘ stín
hlubokoÈ stopen v jezera klín;
v‰ak hloubûji je‰tû u vodu vryt
je z mala okénka lampy svit;
tam Vilém my‰lenkou se baví,
Ïe pfií‰tí den jej Ïití zbaví.
On hanu svou, on tvoji vinu
se dozvûdûl; on svÛdce tvého
vraÏdû zavraÏdil otce svého!
Msta v patách kráãí jeho ãinu. —
Hanebnû zemfie. — Poklid mu dán,
aÏ tváfie, jenÏ co rÛÏe kvûtou,
zbledlé nad kolem obdrÏí stán,
aÏ ‰tíhlé oudy v kolo vpletou.
“Ha! Woe is me!” In the moonlight
a face she knows is lit for her.
Her blood runs cold with fear.
“Where is my Vilém?”
43
Tak skoná stra‰n˘ lesÛ pán! —
Za hanu jeho, za vinu svou
mûj hanu svûta, mûj kletbu mou!”
45
Imaginary portrait of K. H. Mácha by Max ·vabinsk˘
about the author
a b o u t t h e a rt i s t
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