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The Apostate
(Night. In front of a tent. Persian desert.)
Pass me a cup of wine, Procopius.
The wound hurts less now.
I have never seen so many stars in the sky.
Home stars from Gaul and from over Rome,
How hostile do they shine today over the desert.
Stay with me. I would like to breathe once again
With the cold of the night. I always feared
The limitless desert sands, but now
The irrational fear has gone away. There's no place
For imaginary fears
When I'm filled to the bottom of my heart
With certainty of implacable, near death.
Everyday worries, tiny anxieties
Are as jackals, vultures and hienas
Which scared away, are escaping in panic
When a lion approaches its victim.
They say that a human before he dies
Sees history of his life in desperate shortening.
What sights my memory brings back to me?
I don't see face of uncle Constantius,
But how closely and how greviously do I see
Childish bodies of murdered brothers
White, as if all the blood had sank
Into darkly stained bed-clothes.
I was saved when me and Gallus
were hidden by the faithful slave behind a curtain.
I see whiteness again. Whiteness of high marble stairs
Of the house where bishop of Aretuza gave us safe shelter;
It was Him who first educated me in christianity,
Taught me humility and praised poverty,
Willingly accepting on bishop court
Copious tribute ordered by law;
Sheep, oil, grain, lax and wine,
Carried by loady ships,
Rich products of unnamed lands,
Winter roses and spring snows.
Poverty! I know it from churches of Antioch,
From golden basilicas of Constantinople.
It was him who approved of Wallentrojans' slaughter,
Death of Aremus and duke of Egypt,
Whipped to death by eunuchs.
Sinless murders, because in confessional
Brigand gave absolution to the murderer,
Always found some dark line of text
Which gave right of higher type
To the crime comitted for revenge or greed.
He ordered to love your own enemies.
Love enemies? How to love them?
What will be left for friends?
Perhaps hate? Is this the worth of feelings?
Even as a child I had it commanded
To pray to crippleness and uglyness,
When on socles of overthrown Gods
Painted puppets were placed,
Figures of saints with plaster faces,
Deformed by visible suffer.
Was I supposed to waste my young years
In gloomy vestibule of a closed temple,
To renounce the world not being sure
Of what the death and unearthly life will bring us?
Can I choose the unrestrained
lust of delight that awakens sadness?
I've chosen fate of a soldier. Your fate.
Because it's a male thing to fight with injustice,
To defend the honour. Unnamed crime
Is like a poison hidden in wine.
Who dares to call me apostate?
Who's the traitor here, and who remained faithful?
Where is everything I'd believed in willingly?
Oh Eusebius, dear Procopius,
Today, in the hour of reckoning with life,
I don't regret the fight and I don't regret the failure,
But I'm afraid that I've missed something harder,
Something that, above the human nature,
Over the faults of animal herd,
Is like air, like rays
Of unknown surces flowing down on us.
Galilean. I see whiteness again.
Colours spinning round are flowing together.
Everything I've believed in, I've hated,
is deformed in this last thought.
March of events shortens strangely, and thoughts
that accompanied past deeds
Stand alone, as if aside,
Some amongst enemies, some amongst friends.
Of row of my past days
Some go away, grow and move at the head
Of defeated army of days of my life.
@@@
Once I used to like poetry and translate stuff, though I do it quite miserably. It's one of my favourite poems, "Odszczepieniec" ("The Apostate"), by Antoni Slonimski, a polish poet of jewish origin, one of 5 poets of Skamander group. I find them the best polish poets of their times, which is funny, because none was of polish origin.
Anyway, the poem is obviously about emperor Julian. In case someone does not know, Julian was nephew of emperor Constantine. After Constantine's death, much of his family was killed by the army to secure his sons' auccession, a crime sometimes attributed to Constantius. Yet, Julian and his brother Gallus were spared. We don't know why, perhaps because they were of poor health and it was thought they'd die anyway. During his studies, Julian got under influence of pagan philosophers and secretly converted to paganism. Constantius made Gallus caesar and settled him in Antioch, yet Gallus has proven to be a tyrant and was eventually killed. Then Constantius made Julian a caesar and sent him to Galia. Julian revolted and started a civil war, but, suprisingly, Constantius died and appointed him his successor. Then Julian announced his paganism and devouted himself to strenghtening the state, reforming paganism (taking example of christianity) and persecuting christians (these weren't bloody persecutions, though). Julian decided to make a giant expedition against Persia, which, if successful, would make his, and paganism's, position stronger in Roman Empire. During the preparations, Julian involved in conflict with great city of Antioch. Julian's expedition was a failure, partly because of his mistakes and pride (he refused to pay Arabic tribes for help, saying that good emperor has iron, not gold), and he himself died during the retreat. Some say he was killed by a man of his own army, another version says that the one who killed him was a christian Arab.
The Empire lost some valuable fortresses and cities (including Nisibis) due to this failure, and the next emperor, Jovian, was Christian. Julian was the last pagan emperor.
What I like the most is the hiena part and the ending, comparing Julian's defeated army to his defeated life.
(Night. In front of a tent. Persian desert.)
Pass me a cup of wine, Procopius.
The wound hurts less now.
I have never seen so many stars in the sky.
Home stars from Gaul and from over Rome,
How hostile do they shine today over the desert.
Stay with me. I would like to breathe once again
With the cold of the night. I always feared
The limitless desert sands, but now
The irrational fear has gone away. There's no place
For imaginary fears
When I'm filled to the bottom of my heart
With certainty of implacable, near death.
Everyday worries, tiny anxieties
Are as jackals, vultures and hienas
Which scared away, are escaping in panic
When a lion approaches its victim.
They say that a human before he dies
Sees history of his life in desperate shortening.
What sights my memory brings back to me?
I don't see face of uncle Constantius,
But how closely and how greviously do I see
Childish bodies of murdered brothers
White, as if all the blood had sank
Into darkly stained bed-clothes.
I was saved when me and Gallus
were hidden by the faithful slave behind a curtain.
I see whiteness again. Whiteness of high marble stairs
Of the house where bishop of Aretuza gave us safe shelter;
It was Him who first educated me in christianity,
Taught me humility and praised poverty,
Willingly accepting on bishop court
Copious tribute ordered by law;
Sheep, oil, grain, lax and wine,
Carried by loady ships,
Rich products of unnamed lands,
Winter roses and spring snows.
Poverty! I know it from churches of Antioch,
From golden basilicas of Constantinople.
It was him who approved of Wallentrojans' slaughter,
Death of Aremus and duke of Egypt,
Whipped to death by eunuchs.
Sinless murders, because in confessional
Brigand gave absolution to the murderer,
Always found some dark line of text
Which gave right of higher type
To the crime comitted for revenge or greed.
He ordered to love your own enemies.
Love enemies? How to love them?
What will be left for friends?
Perhaps hate? Is this the worth of feelings?
Even as a child I had it commanded
To pray to crippleness and uglyness,
When on socles of overthrown Gods
Painted puppets were placed,
Figures of saints with plaster faces,
Deformed by visible suffer.
Was I supposed to waste my young years
In gloomy vestibule of a closed temple,
To renounce the world not being sure
Of what the death and unearthly life will bring us?
Can I choose the unrestrained
lust of delight that awakens sadness?
I've chosen fate of a soldier. Your fate.
Because it's a male thing to fight with injustice,
To defend the honour. Unnamed crime
Is like a poison hidden in wine.
Who dares to call me apostate?
Who's the traitor here, and who remained faithful?
Where is everything I'd believed in willingly?
Oh Eusebius, dear Procopius,
Today, in the hour of reckoning with life,
I don't regret the fight and I don't regret the failure,
But I'm afraid that I've missed something harder,
Something that, above the human nature,
Over the faults of animal herd,
Is like air, like rays
Of unknown surces flowing down on us.
Galilean. I see whiteness again.
Colours spinning round are flowing together.
Everything I've believed in, I've hated,
is deformed in this last thought.
March of events shortens strangely, and thoughts
that accompanied past deeds
Stand alone, as if aside,
Some amongst enemies, some amongst friends.
Of row of my past days
Some go away, grow and move at the head
Of defeated army of days of my life.
@@@
Once I used to like poetry and translate stuff, though I do it quite miserably. It's one of my favourite poems, "Odszczepieniec" ("The Apostate"), by Antoni Slonimski, a polish poet of jewish origin, one of 5 poets of Skamander group. I find them the best polish poets of their times, which is funny, because none was of polish origin.
Anyway, the poem is obviously about emperor Julian. In case someone does not know, Julian was nephew of emperor Constantine. After Constantine's death, much of his family was killed by the army to secure his sons' auccession, a crime sometimes attributed to Constantius. Yet, Julian and his brother Gallus were spared. We don't know why, perhaps because they were of poor health and it was thought they'd die anyway. During his studies, Julian got under influence of pagan philosophers and secretly converted to paganism. Constantius made Gallus caesar and settled him in Antioch, yet Gallus has proven to be a tyrant and was eventually killed. Then Constantius made Julian a caesar and sent him to Galia. Julian revolted and started a civil war, but, suprisingly, Constantius died and appointed him his successor. Then Julian announced his paganism and devouted himself to strenghtening the state, reforming paganism (taking example of christianity) and persecuting christians (these weren't bloody persecutions, though). Julian decided to make a giant expedition against Persia, which, if successful, would make his, and paganism's, position stronger in Roman Empire. During the preparations, Julian involved in conflict with great city of Antioch. Julian's expedition was a failure, partly because of his mistakes and pride (he refused to pay Arabic tribes for help, saying that good emperor has iron, not gold), and he himself died during the retreat. Some say he was killed by a man of his own army, another version says that the one who killed him was a christian Arab.
The Empire lost some valuable fortresses and cities (including Nisibis) due to this failure, and the next emperor, Jovian, was Christian. Julian was the last pagan emperor.
What I like the most is the hiena part and the ending, comparing Julian's defeated army to his defeated life.
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