Translations of poems about Mom Margarita

Published:
15:41ч / 25.11.2023г
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Today my mother, who bore the wonderful name of Margarita, would have turned one hundred years! She was born on November 25, 1923. In this photo she is young, as was her soul. A year ago I was invited to participate in a literary reading at the Indian Embassy in Sofia, in which female authors from Bulgaria and India presented their works in their  mother tongues and in English. Two of the poems I read were about my mother, and the English translation was done by my husband, Vladimir Dvoretzky, who respected my mother immensely. Today, in honour of her 100th anniversary, we publish his translations and the original on our website.

The Queen of the Ball

By Gergina Dvoretzka

Lights illuminate

The ceremonial hall.

The massive doors are opened.

Here comes Margarita,

The Queen of the ball!

The Queen of children’s dreams!

And murmur of delight

Spreads through the crowd,

While the bewitched hall shines.

Margarita dances,

Doesn’t step on the floor…

Revolves in dizzying magic…

And somebody would ask

The glowing crowd:

“Well, who bewitched you and with what?”.

This is Margarita!

The Queen of the ball,

The lightest and gentlest soul!

And faraway from there,

Behind the shining rooms,

Behind a multitude of years and doors,

Through a minute gap

Her daughter watches her,

Diviner of the children’s dreams… 

Translated by Vladimir Dvoretzky

” ” ”

Царицата на бала

Огряват светлините

тържествената зала.

Разтварят се масивните врати.

Пристига Маргарита,

Царицата на бала!

Царицата на детските мечти!

И шепот на възхита

се носи из тълпата,

а залата омаяна блести.

Танцува Маргарита…

не стъпва по земята…

във шеметна магия се върти…

И някой ще попита

тълпата засияла:

„Та кой ви омагьоса и с какво?”.

Това е Маргарита!

Царицата на бала,

най-светлото и нежно същество!

А надалеч оттука,

зад бляскавите стаи,

зад множество години и врати,

през мъничка пролука

я гледа дъщеря й,

гадателка на детските мечти…

Гергина Дворецка

Another poem from my poetry collection “Ballad of the Phoenix Bird” from the cycle “Poems for my mother who bore the beautiful name Margarita” :

The Soul of My Mother

By Gergina Dvoretzka

The soul of my mother

Has become light

Like a feather.

I tie with a string

Mum’s soul

To my heart.

The feather flies

Up where

Souls go round,

It pulls the string

Cutting my heart

But I hold fast…

The feather strives

To go up furiously

And it overcame…

And the mark that

The string left

Bleeds to this day.

Translated by Vladimir Dvoretzky

Both poems were published in the poetry collection “Ballad of the Phoenix Bird”, ed. “Triada”, 2014

” ” “

Душата на мама

е станала лека,

подобно перце.

Завързвам с връвчица

душата на мама

за мойто сърце.

Полита перцето

нагоре, където

душите кръжат,

опъва връвчицата,

впита в сърцето ми,

но аз я държа…

Перцето стреми се

нагоре неистово…

и ме надви….

а белегът, който

остави връвчицата,

до днес ми кърви.

Гергина Дворецка

И двете стихотворения са публикувани в от стихосбирката “Балада за птицата Феникс”, изд. “Триада”, 2014 г.