暗网禁区

IN HONOUR OF ROBINSON JEFFERS

You lived in a holiday house on the Pacific shore

听听听听听听听听听听听 Robinson certainly

as a young man you bore the idea

听听听听听听听听听听听 in mind to abandon

people at least partly

听听听听听听听听听听听 听听听听听听听听听听听 eventually why shouldn鈥檛

听听听听听听听听听听听 听a healthy man do this

with a good woman

听听听听听听听听听听听 I live in a different

country and in another time but I did

听听听听听听听听听听听 the same living

in a holiday house if I can give the name to the walls

听听听听听听听听听听听 surrounding me

within and while inside sleep

听听听听听听听听听听听 my wife and children I

am sitting by an inside

听听听听听听听听听听听 window and watching听 how

听there outside before the dawn the mighty

ocean

tosses and turns

听听听听听听听听听听听 a masculine soul

听

Translated by听Viera and James Sutherland-Smith

听

JAROSLAV

鈥濶ec铆t铆m se dob艡e.

ale m谩m radost.鈥�*

听

said Seifert

when in the hospital

they told him solicitously

he鈥檇 got the Nobel prize.

In those few seconds

as an opalescent

television shovel

bore him to the grave,

he managed to conduct

a听fast course in poetry.

In six words

he explained to millions

where that dog was buried,

the one with the odd name

Beingapoet.

听

Translated by听Martin Solotruk听and听James Sutherland-Smith

听

IN MY FATHER鈥橲 PRAGUE / NOTES ON MEMOIRS

(extract)

HOW I FAILED MY STATE EXAMS

At about the time of my departure from the Mlad茅 let谩 publishing house, I听was to finish my studies at the Pedagogical Institute, though I听couldn鈥檛 sign in for my final exams as I was missing a required credit in political economy.

Nobody can be blamed for my failure to pass but myself.

I was then living in a leased apartment at no. 1, Gunduli膷ova street, just a step away from the 艩tef谩nka caf茅; I used to have quick breakfast there on my way to school. I usually got stuck there. It was our habitual hang-out with my friends, and was incredibly far from Kalin膷iakova street. Predictably, my school attendance was increasingly suffering, which was why I wasn鈥檛 given the credit.

One of the absentee鈥檚 options to come clean was to pass an additional examination for the credit. So there I was hoping to be examined. Oddly enough, the same trouble was being addressed by Okt谩via M眉llerov谩, the most beautiful girl of our class. Together, we found ourselves in the office of our professor 鈥� his name was Pezl谩r. My question was to explain the meaning of monopolist鈥檚 rent. I听happened to know 鈥� and as an example of goods that is no longer produced elsewhere but there where it is (and, consequently, its price can be increased by this monopoly鈥檚 rent) I听referred to the Tokay wine. There was a听map hanging on the wall in Pezl谩r鈥檚 office. He gave me a stick, prompting me to show this Tokay region. Cock-sure that the credit is mine and in an attempt to cheer up Okt谩via, I听began to rummage about somewhere the 艩umava region, on the obviously opposite end of the map. Okt谩via giggled and I听wasn鈥檛 able to get any nearer with the stick. Pezl谩r, too, was clearly trying to impress the gorgeous student, and he was more to the point than me. My course record book hit me in the head and I听was soon hitting the road, too, without the credit. Later, I听saw a听notice posted in the school saying that those missing a听credit still have the chance to get it done by September 30 鈥� a听week before the state exams. Unfortunately, I听had no juice left to make it 鈥� consoling myself at the thought of my favourite poet V铆t臎zslav Nezval, who never finished university either.

In the afternoon of September, 30 my friends 鈥� Jano Stacho, Miro V谩lek and I 鈥� were sitting in the journalists club, penniless to the point of not being able to order a coffee. We were lucky to have there the waiter Filo, who served us on trust. I consulted my watch and said to my friends:

鈥淕uys, I have just failed to finish university.鈥�

鈥淲hat is this nonsense?鈥� V谩lek asked, agitated.

I explained that his agitation is useless 鈥� there was too late for venturing anything.

鈥淚t isn鈥檛 late,鈥� V谩lek said. 鈥淗ave you got your course record book on you?鈥�

I听did.

鈥淵ou鈥檒l go and see Pezl谩r at his home.鈥�

鈥淚 have no idea where he lives.鈥�

鈥淭he police at Lermontov谩 street will give you his address for three crowns.鈥�

鈥淚 don鈥檛 have three crowns.鈥�

V谩lek and Stacho emptied their pockets to find the last three crowns and chased me out to the streets. I wasn鈥檛 expected to return without the credit 鈥� they would wait there.

At Lermontov谩 street, there was a听rather debonair member of the National Security Corps, and although there, too, they were about to call it a听day, he was still willing to finger through his files.

鈥淲hich Pezl谩r do you want? We have two. One is 慕udov铆t and the other Otto.鈥�

Another unexpected problem.

鈥淚 don鈥檛 remember his name,鈥� I said.

鈥淣o problem,鈥� the policeman said. 鈥淭ake them both.鈥�

Another problem.

鈥淚 only have three crowns.鈥� I said. 鈥淚 can take only one, but it may be the wrong person.鈥�

The policeman had me explain my trouble, then exclaimed:

鈥淗ere are your two Pezl谩rs for three crowns 鈥� and out with you!鈥�

The complications seemed endless. The addresses of both Pezl谩rs weren鈥檛 exactly handy, it was getting dark and I had no money for the tram. I was though a fortunate stowaway and got to the first address clean. It turned out to be the wrong one, Otto. I was then another lucky stowaway to the other address. 慕udov铆t Pezl谩r let me into his living room, where he was consuming a water melon. He was in a good mood and gave me his credit without examining me.

I returned with my course record book signed to the journalists club. My friends got terribly excited about my success 鈥� theirs too, in the end. Even the local chef got so excited as to treat us, royally, on credit. In fact, my friends got a bit too excited, and ended up wrestling, Greek-Roman style, in the men鈥檚 room. V谩lek was the one who slipped and broke his arm. The rest of the night was spent at the emergency department in a hospital.

In a week鈥檚 time, then, I was able to have my university studies completed. Although now with a proper course record, I still didn鈥檛 even try to make it 鈥� the time was too short for me to come prepared.

听

MY CAREER AS A MANUAL WORKER

And so, in 1959, I embarked on my next career as auxiliary worker in the Pravda printing works.

My job there was to serve one of the simplest machines in the world 鈥� the pulling press, which the typesetters called just 鈥減ress鈥�. The typesetter was to give me a column of metal type, which I was to transport to the press. The next part was to hit the pedal and make the colour cylinder move. When the colour was set on the type, I would ease my leg off the pedal and put some wet paper on the type. Then the leg hit the pedal again and another cylinder came pressing the paper against the type. When that cylinder finished pressing, and the letters appeared imprinted on the paper, the galley proof was ready to be delivered by me to the office room. An easy job 鈥� but, as any work, this, too, had the devil of competitiveness in it.

On that press, I was changing shifts with yet another auxiliary worker by the nickname of Puki, the epitome of manual dexterity. He would skip one pedal-hitting, doing it only once, and would place the proof on the type on constantly running cylinders in the only second he had left for that between the intervals of the two exchanging cylinders. For some time, I had been studying every single movement of his to conclude that I should be able to do it myself. That proved to be the end of my pulling press episode. Today I still have this quite physical remembrance of it imprinted on my fingers, which got stuck between the type and the pressing cylinder 鈥� don鈥檛 ask me how they managed to fit there.

I was barely recovered when bad news came from 沤ilina 鈥� my father had been arrested by the State Security on April, 30.

Due to these two events 鈥� the injury in the printing works and my father鈥檚 arrest 鈥� I听was begining to see the light.

When my disability was over and I听was ready to work, I听quit my job in the printing works and set out home to 沤ilina, to help relieve my mom in this discomforting situation. There I听found the notice from the Pedagogical Institute concerning the state examinations deadlines I听was invited to attend. Unable to make up my mind, I left the notice sitting on the table. It was still there when the State Security rang our bell and searched our apartment. One of the secret eyes laid his hands on that notice. I听startled 鈥� he seemed to have been studying it forever. I听was only able to breathe again when he had put it back where it was 鈥揳pparently he didn鈥檛 find anything important. Me, for one, suddenly found it听very听important that the Pedagogical Institute I听had been so disgracefully ignoring was a听pocket of decency in the ocean of indecency around. They could have easily expelled me, had they wanted to do so! I听firmly decided to sign in for the next date of examinations while I听still had the chance and before that change would have been gone.

When I听had signed in for the fall examinations, the Dean Mikul谩拧 Ga拧par铆k had me for a听talk in his office. When encountered by us as students, he seemed inaccessible, even fearful. Luckily, that proved but a听mask concealing a听man of good heart. This time again, his face was seemingly cross:

鈥淭he school knows everything about you. We have received everything. There was a suggestion that you should be expelled. I said no. I hope you will be well prepared for the examinations. If anyone asks you anything, say nothing.鈥�

鈥淧lease, don鈥檛 worry. I鈥檒l be well prepared,鈥� I assured him.

鈥淯nfortunately, there is one thing I cannot assure you about,鈥� Dean Ga拧par铆k said finally. Your opponents believe that a person like you cannot be an educator of young generation. Even if you pass the examination, you鈥檙e unlikely to receive placement.鈥�

I smiled, surreptitiously. At that time, a student graduating from university had no choice but to start work at a place where he had been sent to, which was then referred to as 鈥渞eceive placement鈥�. A lot of friends of mine were desperate about their placements, trying hard ways to escape this. And here I was without any imminent threat of being placed. Punished, I was free.

鈥淭here is nothing I could be more pleased to hear,鈥� I said, but soon got embarrassed.

Dean Ga拧par铆k was suddenly giving me that cross look again.

I thought Mikul谩拧 Ga拧par铆k would find these lines a welcome little amusement at his age now, and was ready to send him my book once it had appeared. Unfortunately, the late Mr. Ga拧par铆k will no longer be amused 鈥� I recently read the announcement of his death in the newspapers. At least, I will 鈥減lay鈥� him听Homesick Blues听on his way heavenwards. This translation of mine of the famous poem by Langston Hughes is at home in those times 鈥� it was published in our collective issue.

Translated by听慕uben Urb谩nek

听