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Yan Jin (Yana Djin) It is absolutely accurate voice .....

Even if you never heard anything about this author
and an unusual name you too not interested ...........

On the cover - an amazingly beautiful person you are staying, look, take a book .... spirited imagination immediately draws probably looked like that Queen Tamara, steamed at his father Fyodor.
On the first pages you read in the preface of Joseph Brodsky:

"Mark any metric laws Jin Yan evinces a linguistic originality, which almost can not bear hearing, worn very often repeated inaccuracies. Linguistically, it is a poetic point of view - it is absolutely accurate voice. Flawless, for accuracy and is an attribute sovershenstva`.

  Yan Jin (Yana Djin) was born in Tbilisi in 1969, lived in Moscow. In 1980 he moved to the United States, where she received a philosophical obrazovanie.Poeziyu writes in English. (Most translations done by the father of the author, philosopher and novelist Jean Nodar).
Yan Jin considers itself a language tool is not very important for the poet `Language, at least for me, the thing is secondary. Interchangeable. Contrary to the spirit of it is our nature. It can not save, can not and obmenivat`.
Her first book of poetry "Bits And Pieces Of Conversations" was published in America in 1994, the Russian translation of her poems first appeared in 1997 in the "Literary Gazette," under the heading "A new literary star." Followed by the publication in magazines? Friendship of Peoples? and? New World ?. In 2000 in Moscow (with parallel translations of poems by Jean J. Russian) published a collection of "inevitable."


Window, the smallest rain sprinkled, -
as we have just begun Seurat canvas.
Transparent. Moisture seemed glued.
Not moving. Not wet.
With the sole exception of the drop.
It swells on the glass, round,
Recalling a tear of shame:
everything starts to glow, sparkle
therein. And the star is crushed.

Night entirely fit into the drop:
woozy from the heat midges
rushes in yellow, weakened
the glow of a lantern-ball.
Whether shamefacedly, or gently
ball shimmers as a mineral
precious in the snowy
harboring the mountains,
which terminate in the sky sharp ice caps ...

And then, when gathered in a drop of water
begins to crawl, - after her straight furrow -
she suddenly on the blink of an eye
blesnёt in the window, showering him as a shock,
vague fear. In it we have and it is
Me myself ... and disappears.

(Per. Nodar Jin)



"The genius of the poet is measured by its ability to transcend time inside. More precisely, - what time is doing with the language. Poems Jana Jin hit me neprisutstvuyuschim them time. This victory over him she provides nevpuscheniem in his poetry, his disregard for restrictive signs . So the Prophet wins its time - the fact that he was looking through it in the future. Contextual virtuosity poetry Jana Jin does not need to be proved: it is obvious ...
Poems Jana Jin are rarely grope unity of wisdom, skill in the possession of the word and virtuosity combined sounds. "- Joseph Brodsky



Solo ...

Nobody wants you whole. Only - part.
Live alone. Try with no one to match.
Comprehend the wisdom to share on the needs of the
themselves. Wisdom conceal love and adversity.

But most of all try not to show sadness.
In recognition of approaches one - kratkoustyu.
And better - when only the walls deaf circle.
Because - remember - no one wants you whole.

(Per. N. Gin)


Slide the window curtains.
Otrintes from heaven.
All that is given -
two pairs of walls in the wallpaper or not.
And a close eye ceiling
dearer than distant forest ......



Diamante II

Closer to the nonexistence

                      "Do not go out of the room."

Do not pay attention. Do not count
cuschestvovanem that behind the wall.
Do not go out of the room. read
about not-your sadness about the other world.
Do not move. Do not fuss. Sidi,
when suddenly someone yells.
A shiver of sleep - do not you dare wake
themselves: that dream neighbor. Also asleep.
Do not trust the voice within
themselves. Sit and wait for no one.
And inside the locks shut.
A knock on the door, saying, Go away!
Like a mannequin of mirrors curves
silent. The pupils in the eyes erase!
And suddenly remembering that there is it alive,
reflection is not your look.




We'll meet later
pain of salts,
births, non-births,
days in which to blame
powerlessness and inability to escape the shadow of
discard, the fate of his guard ...
We are destined to another one of the meetings -
I'll see you on the edge of the edge,
in the loop on the deadly end of a rope,
not as a last resort -
as more - as that between
vsesiney Sn?hvit and the abyss lives.



Habit of Love.

Yonder wasteland -
Lost us whose gone.
Neither surprised nor sorrow,
here every day going through, trying to
hope to extract from where almost
find, content, grain.
Monotonous hum indifference. attached
charter came to theft
in the heart of orphanhood.
Not find a relationship,
shredded, roughened, now
it refuses to losses in sight.
Here, the whole is, the warmth of another
shrouded. Without a word. since the word
in it is not there.
While the other, the silence in response,
not stun confession: you
do not love more than life itself.
Well, then, expect trouble,
hold on, and
to survive - simulates a lie:
it's over. Everything started. - One
of the two. But do not wait and do not korezhit
flesh heart subtraction, but
it is, it
shall learn - as a field mouse,
hiding in the Rye -
with the prescribed fate only
and live. Humbling.
So fish, inside and out
isplavav river
work before the end of the survival
knowing, at the slaughterhouse to the person
she goes - and those fools
it suddenly swallowing the bait.

(Per. Vl. Gandelsman)

Forgive the vulgarity of fiction: a couple,
I see by the sea we live.
Listening to the chatter of the waves,
zaryas not everything, we are free to live.
I see the house is simple and clean. light
shows through the opening. No curtains on the windows.
In the palms - no love, no requests, only
no sorrowful silence
face. As breadth embrace - in full
open the door, and weight -
sodden bread crumbs - starlight
aimless and shower works.
We also went around with their care
hysteria. The wind died down and hoisted,
returning to normal. but for
banal course of things can not blush.
What is love? Return to the cliche. simple
Forms of celebration at the site of twisted forms,
to put it simply - the cast of bulls,
inviting and morochaschih youths.
Trampled road traveler that
Crow likened, the trouble
tired from the collection of crows
wings slamming emitted out.
That's right. This time the foot.
Rather than curse fate.
Regularity of breathing. gift watch
eyes receiving death.
Openness absorbs them that rest,
with which you answer? Am I? what
nor has the land, raw, that it
Is the way beyond our days.

(Per. Vl. Gandelsman)



Below the visibility

Thou shalt not covet anything that you want,
pity even used one wish.
Dreaming the lonely night,
do not dream at least one dreams.
Do not do the first of all, what is ready.
And do not let all hopes come true.
And leave unsaid a word.
And not all vyazhi nodes on the spoke.
Non-existence of perfect:
that it be-came to leave.
And his presence in vain
those who are holy, -Go away - no burden.
Thou shalt not covet anything that is as
everything that exists in these days,
is not all. Swallowing tears fraction
not Thai, one even dropped.

(Per. Nodar Jin)


When I could

Whenever I was able to do the night of the day
and out of the water - wine ... Whenever I
know how those who have died, to revive
and then all of a dance invite
then perhaps you would not say:
It is the whole world is able to re-start!
For every woman a man to create,
and every disease to speak,
and each persuade not to lie
when used could - you have left to say:
It is the whole world is able to re-start!
Whenever reality wrapping dreams
and boredom - holiday fun beauty
I could, and foreboding
get rid of the life-giving breath of the water,
then perhaps you would not say:
It is the whole world is able to re-start!

(Per. Nodar Jin)


Poems Jana Jin

Artist Brita Seifert

by Fabian Perez paintings



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