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Сюзан К. Вудсворт

The Universe in motion / Вселенная в движении

■ Axes turning / Вращающиеся оси ■ Blue bounds browning / Синие границы делаются коричневыми ■ Caterpillar’s jolly jaunt / Веселая прогулка гусеницы ■ Connections / Связи ■ Feathers in frolic / Перья веселящиеся ■ Hippety-hop / Хип-хоп ■ Morning-glory spin / Кружение утренней славы ■ Orbiting rhythms / Ритмы в орбите ■ Sea-serpent playground / Игровая площадка морских змей ■ Seed dispersal / Разбрасывание семян ■ Whalesong / Песня китов ■

Dance in motion / Танец в движении

■ Bright turns / Светлое кружение ■ Yellow stream / Желтый ручеек ■ Hurry up! / Торопись! ■ The lunge / Выпад ■ Class act / Классное действие ■ Spanish dancer / Испанская танцорка ■ Twirly girl / Крутящаяся девушка ■ Blue dancer / Синяя танцорка ■ Danceweaver / Ткачиха танца ■ Raindancer / Танцорка под дождем ■ Harvest girl / Крестьянка ■

Susan Keyes Woodsworth

Susan Keyes Woodsworth / Сюзан Кийз Вудсворт Susan Keyes Woodsworth (née Hoik) was born in the United States of America in the town of Rockland (Maine). She attended a variety of grade-schools in New England (some of them in one-room schoolhouses with her father as teacher) and later earned a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in dance at the Boston Conservatory of Music. She taught dance one summer at a private school for the arts in Tanglewood (Massachusetts).

For several years she worked for the Christian Science Publishing Society in Boston, where she met her husband, John Woodsworth, who spent two summers there as a translator. After marriage she moved to Canada with her husband, where she has lived ever since (except for three years which the family spent at Principia College in America in connection with her husband’s work). Over the years she had a number of jobs in university libraries and administrative offices.

Toward the end of the 1980s she took an active interest in both poetry and visual art. The very first poem she wrote (on a family trip through the Colorado mountains), entitled “The Universe, Dance and Me” set the theme for much of her art and poetry to come. In art she began focusing on the abstract, either ‘pure’ abstraction or abstract dance figures. Much of her poetry is infused with metaphysical concepts derived from her deep Christian faith.

Since 1982 Susan Woodsworth has been living with her family in Ottawa, the capital of Canada, where her husband continues to work mainly as a (Russian-English) literary translator, associated with the University of Ottawa. Like him, she is on the Board of Sasquatch Literary & Arts Performance Series, a longstanding Ottawa poetry group. Her extended family includes two adult children, a son-in-law and one granddaughter, all living in Ottawa.

Сюзан Кийз Вудсворт

Сюзан Кийз Вудсворт (урожд. Хойк) родилась в США в городке Рокланд (шт. Мэн). Она ходила в разные школы в Новой Англии, иногда в однокомнатные школы, где учителем был ее отец. Позже в Бостонской консерватории ей присвоили степень бакалавра изобразительных искусств в области танца. Одно лето она учила танцу в частной школе в селе Танглвуд (шт. Массачусетс).

После окончания консерватории она несколько лет работала в Издательстве Христианской Науки в Бостоне, где познакомилась с мужем, Джоном Вудсвортом, работавшим там два года летом переводчиком. В замужестве она переехала с супругом в Канаду, где живет с тех пор постоянно, за исключением трех лет в Америке в связи с работой мужа в колледже «Принципия». В течение многих лет она работала в разных университетских библиотеках и административных учреждениях.

К концу 1980-х гг. она стала активно интересоваться поэзией и изобразительным искусством. Самое первое написанное ею стихотворение (сочиненное во время семейного путешествия по колорадским горам), под названием «Вселенная, танец и я», задало тон многим из ее будущих художественных и поэтических работ. В искусстве она стала сосредотачиваться над абстрактным — то над «чистым» абстрактным, то над абстрактными танцевальными фигурами. Многие ее стихи пропитаны метафизическими идеями, почерпнутыми из ее глубокой христианской веры.

С 1982 г. Сюзан Вудсворт живет с семьей в канадской столице Оттаве, где ее муж продолжает работу литературного переводчика (с русского на английский) как независимо, так и в сотрудничестве с Оттавским университетом. Подобно мужу, она входит в правление давно существующей столичной поэтической группы «Литературно-музыкальные вечера «Саскватч». В ее семействе двое взрослых детей, зять и одна внучка, все проживающие в Оттаве.

Susan Keyes Woodsworth Poems

Стихи Сюзан Кийз Вудсворт

The Universe, Dance and Me

The patterns and movements of the Dance —
are they any different from
the patterns and movements of the stars
turning in their galaxies of fire?

The motion and rhythm of the dancer —
are they any different from
the motion and rhythm of the solar system
breathing light?

The reaching, lifting, balancing,
turning of the dancers —
are they any different from
the reaching, lifting, balancing,
turning of the heart’s
desire for unfolding brightness?

The beatings of the feet are
the pulsations of my life!

Kansas/Colorado border, 23 May 1989.
Russian translation by Ivan Zhavoronkov, 30.01.10.

Танец Вселенной

Движения, линии танца —
Отличны они или нет
От линий, движений созвездий
Галактик в далеком огне?

Движения, ритмы танцора —
Отличны они или нет
От солнечной нашей системы
Вдыхающей солнечный свет?

Стремление ввысь, равновесье,
Танцоров круженье, балет —
Отличны они или нет
От страсти души поднебесье
Стремиться в открывшийся свет?

Танцуй же, О сердце, и бей
Чечетку — пульс жизни моей!

На границе Канзаса с Колорадо, 23 мая 1989.
Перевод Ивана Жаворонкова, 30.01.10.

Observations (on my pictures)

Observations as I draw my pictures:
The drawing comes from the very apex of creativity
where shapes and forms abide in silent wonder,
then wend their way onto the paper
with colours shrilling with vibrancy...

They open up doors in the universe of thought
and articulate wonders of the mind…

Each individual sound cries forth in soaring song
and I hear them,
and as I choose the different colours,
I see eternity unfold its endless patterns…

For I am bowing in humility
at their messages of harmony
and intense music
from a Master Musician.

12 September 2009.
Russian translation by Ivan Zhavoronkov, 30.01.10.

О живописи

О живописи мыслю живописно:
Мои картины в пике вдохновения,
Где образы в безмолвном изумлении
Ложатся, словно ноты, на бумагу
Кричащими, дрожащими цветами...

Открыв врата у мыслии нетленной,
Озвучив чудо разума Вселенной...

И каждый звук звенит в парящей песне,
Я слышу их, и краски выбирая,
Я вижу образ вечности чудесной...

И преклоняюсь я смиренно:
У тех посланий нет конца,
Что у гармонии Вселенной
От музыкального Творца.

12 сентября 2009.
Перевод Ивана Жаворонкова, 30.01.10.

Peek-a-boo (on my pictures)

Each of these abstract drawings
is a doorway to/from or into/out of
the UNIVERSE —

a “Peek-a-boo, I see you!” —
you being whatever you want
these shapes and colours to represent
(these vary from individual to individual).

Maybe some see nothing at all,
while others behold a whole panorama
of thoughts and experiences.

September 2009.
Russian translation by Ivan Zhavoronkov, 30.01.10.

О моих картинах

Абстрактные линии, векторы —
Врата, что ведут ко, из, от
ВСЕЛЕННОЙ —

«Ку-ку! Я тебя уже вижу» —
Тебя – это то, чем ты видишь
Себя среди радужных красок
(И друг от тебя отличится).

Быть может, одни не увидят,
Другие ж увидят весь свет
И опытных мыслей ответ.

Сентябрь 2009.
Перевод Ивана Жаворонкова, 30.01.10.

Between shapes (in my pictures)

Between shapes
varying in size
there echo relationships
in Nature, Man and other things.

A somewhat natural state is achieved:
Is it intelligent?
It is thought made evident
through outlines of form and colour —
all necessary components of an artist’s reality.

Certainly, the artist is intelligent.
Drawing as such satisfies a need
to connect with the Universe
that includes all shapes, lines and formations
(like statements in a sentence).

The Universe speaks to me
in this way.

August 2009
Russian translation by Ivan Zhavoronkov, 30.01.10.

Среди очертаний (в моих картинах)

Среди очертаний
Различных размеров
Услышится эхо
Вещей, Человека, Природы.

И ровное чувство открылось:
Разумно ль его красота?
То — мысль, что на свет проявилась
Сквозь линии, формы, цвета —
Насущной средою художника,

Разумного мыслью нетленною;
Рисунки — потребность душевная,
Вступает он в связь со Вселенною
Всех линий и форм, очертаний
(Как фразы, слова, сочетания).

Так молвит со мною
Вселенная.

Август 2009.
Перевод Ивана Жаворонкова, 30.01.10.

I love the Universe / Я люблю Вселенную

I love the Universe,
and the space in between
is you and me in a dream
of a visionary quest.

I love the Universe,
dwelling in day-tilted, turning, axel-rod movements
of circumferenced equations,
measuring a vehicle of space,
readying itself for a ride along a sky-highway
for unknown destinations.

I love the Universe,
where there is no time-travel
but the immediate recognition of a 'now pleading now'
tomorrow and yesterday, folding, enveloping,
travelling forward and backward
in an ever-present progression.


Let's travel now!
Be the immediate motion in rectangular, triangular, octagonal, hexagonal etc,
the many-sided shapings of interstellar movements.
Now, travelling at one with the idea of travel,
without time!

I love the Universe!
The Universe loves me!
This moment!
You too!

Ottawa, 20 September 1989

Cosmic birth / Космическое рождение

The earth-winds roar,
howling, howling
down unknown chambers...
The seas pull up their waves
high into foaming froth...
Waves topple over waves
onto beaches...
Sands are pushed into
numerous positioning shapes...
Our world aches and groans
with creation's contractions.

This stir on the surface
beckons us to view
deeper realms,
where conflicts converge
and pressures release
other pressures.

Like an unborn child
is this life
in the womb of faith's eyes...
Stars in the night
see us
conceiving, growing, moving,
developing, unfolding
through rarefacted
beams of light,
our earth waiting to come forth
at natal's hour —
our solar home
like a forming babe,
working out
the balances of Nature,
an embryo of
developing thoughts and ideas,
concepts and perceptions.

Our surrounding solar system
of undiscovered ideas
waits
like a pregnant mother...
Planets, moons
and other phenomena
sense the signs
of the coming birth
as earth sends out
probes and satellites.

But still the time has not yet come
for this developing thought
has not yet finished
its chemical balancing act
of moral forces and definitions.

When this babe
in the protected womb
of its solar home
has completed its formative phase,
then comes mother's hour...
The adhesion and cohesion
of contracting (mental) forces
bring forth the wonder
of creation's cry:

"For unto us a Child is born
and unto us a Son is given
and the government
shall be upon His shoulder.
And His name shall be called
Wonderful, Counsellor,
the mighty God,
the everlasting Father,
the Prince of Peace!"

Out into the deep unknown,
the darkness vast
will echo the glad cry
and the searching eyes
of the universe vast
will welcome this
new-born child or idea,
this star-traveller
of all our tomorrows.

Ottawa, November 1989

Creation’s fiat / Приказ творения

The deepest darkest cold of earth
is slowly moving along the giant periphery of solid forms…

Gradually and ever so quietly
its enormous weight of pressures
is transforming the very being of rock-substance,
making itself evident in jagged edges.

The sharp sword-like thrusts
are cutting out great mountains,
moulding buttes and scooping out valleys.

This most powerful sculpturer
is forming shapes within,
establishing momentary millennium balances
which seem forever permanent,
but only to be eventually worn away
by elemental vibrations of air, sweeping waters —
wearing, caressing away jagged edges —
rounding smooth the sensuous textures of the “earth-cradle”,
readying this vast preface for the “earth-child”
to gaze in wondering eyes at the miracle
of creation’s eternal epitaph!

Colorado National Monument, 25 May 1989

Star-gazing / Созерцание звезд

The silent traveller,
the silent star...
he eclipses his moon-walk,
he epitomises afar.

His journey begins,
his journey ends,
then he steps beyond his circumference
and begins again.

"Come, travel with me,"
he says and repeats:
"Come, travel with me
and don't be replete.

Enter into my vision,
see through my lens!
Let's journey beyond
the imaginable rim.

The universe hums:
hear its rhythmical song...
worlds whirling like masses
of globular charms.

The planets seem brighter
when we travel this far,
where the mind opens wider
and the eyes see beyond.

Beyond? Yes, beyond...
Beyond where, did you say?
How far have we come?
Will we journey home again?"

But the traveller is now silent...
His vision has fled...
The journey has ended
for we never left...
we never left...
we never left...
we never left...
we never left...

Ottawa, 2 March 1992

Playground / Игровая площадка

The children are playing
on the playground today.
Their toys challenge the spaces
as they swing to and fro
above the surface,
pushing their feet up
over their heads,
flying through the air
without wings.

The children clamber and climb
with ease as they drop
their weightless bodies
from heights to depths
and wend their way
from lengths to lengths
or slide off the edge of uncertainties,
finding ground-level assurances.

Ottawa, Written in the early 1990s

Universal poemetics / Универсальная поэметика, часть 1

May this poem be the launch-pad —
the preparation for further exploratory themes
to discover new realms (of conscious pattens),
perfecting, completing concepts
of carefully kept memory resources,
to reach forward and back in descriptive time —
timing, keeping in step with present ‘vibes’,
perfecting into unexplored, spatial (realms, regions, patterns),
noisy, but with yet to be understood interpretations,
translating civilised, humanised placements,
becoming the launch-pad
for future projectile, planetary penetrations…

The search goes on…
with the past cushioning our efforts:
the present solidifying our accomplishments
and the future stretching, expanding
with detailed, light-glowing promises of
reflections upon reflections
of the mind’s reflecting, the mind’s knowing,
the searching, the activity of all that needs to be
heard, spoken, accepted, of all that needs to be
needed is the search going on as
the poems on-going…

The future launch-pad is…
the Universe!

Ottawa, 16 August 1989

Universal poemetics, continued (Dancing rounds) / Универсальная поэметика, часть 2 (Танцевальные кружки)

Let me dance again?
If by future design
I should orbit around this way again,
this time, perhance,
I may dance
with more exacting timing,
may extend better
my mobile appendages,
reaching higher tones,
bowing more deeply
in humbling grace.

Whate'er may come
beyond these moments,
may I capture
this brief prelude of life
in dance.
For the first time around
is gone,
and I cannot turn back.
So let me dance again
if by design
I should orbit around this way again.

Ottawa, 9 March 1992

Dancer, leap! spin! (Nijinsky, Nureyev, Baryshnikov) / Танцор, прижок! крутись! (Нижинский, Нуреев, Барышников)

Leap, dancer leap!
Your leaps become suspended in space-seconds,
over and beyond space to landing bent-pliés,
only to again prepare
for another height-dimension of ecstatic stretch-strengths,
bounding through the air at light-speed…

Next you’re spinning on your centre-axis toes,
whirling your being so the form by sight
becomes a blurred vision —
spin, twirl, turn your body shapes
like planet-tops spinning circular shapes without a stop…

Ottawa (home, Monday), 26 June 1989

The dancer’s ‘soul’ / «Душа» танцoра

The soul of the dancer
is wrought out
on wings of loveliness —
arms fluttering in bird-like flight,
torso arched,
stretched to the fullest movement
of bird-graced gliding,
floating on tip-toed point...

The dancer’s entire body
poised, ready to take off
on winged arms,
embracing sky in feathered flap,
‘tulle’d’ graces...

The ballerina is dancing —
the bird is flying!

Ottawa (Tuesday, 2 a.m.), 1 August 1989

Dancing sky-high / Танцевать до небес

Satiny blue sky and lacy white clouds
stretch across the space above my head
like a giant skirt spinning out in circular motion
over a dancer’s twirling toes —
round and round and round
the expanding sky-world...

I reach up but cannot touch such a wonder —
the beautiful textures of silky smoothness and fragile laciness
elude my sensitive fingertips so small...

Even if I should travel
up, up, up, in a balloon with its high-rising hopes,
desiring to be closer to this fabricated blue-and-white fantasy,
I would never find it,
but only pass through and beyond to look down on...

Satiny blue sky with lacy white clouds
stretching across the vast spaces below my feet
like a giant skirt spinning out in circular motion
over a dancer’s twirling toes...

Ottawa (home), 8 July 1989

Turning in time (Dance Series) / Кружение во времени

How easily
the dancer turns,
turns, turns around!
Spins
...........woosh!

The air
binds the body
in enraptured fiery blends
of chemi-calling cries,
of shouts half-heard —
the dancer
turning, turning,
burning the air in speeds.

The body
is defining,
demanding space
to make space
for the air to breathe,
breathing —
but breathless! —
for the dancer spins on,
turning, timing,
trying the foot-point,
the point of turn, of twirl,
to move past
the moment of now
and arrive at another moment
in now-time.

Too easily the dancer turns,
without effort...
The focused spin takes one where?
Where are you spinning to?

The dancer seems absent with naught but
the intent to turn, to spin.

A present eulogy caught,
a timing tale sought
by those who long to spin
like a planet where eternity is caught
in the web of time,
seeking to turn, spin,
then stop?

Ottawa, 12 January 1999

Dancers’ ‘turn-out’ / Выворотные ноги танцора


No ballet danseur could possibly move
his legged limbs and feet straight forward
in an ordinary walking position,
for ballet danseurs are forever designed
to move with ‘turned out’ rotating appendages.

Their entire repertoire of movements
is based upon this essential stance…
unless of course some dance choreographer
dictates the straight-on of legs and toes
to fulfil some specific creative design.

No, the ballet danseur must be continually ‘turned out’ —
a readying position to move in expanding circumference,
shaping the many steps and movement combinations.

Easy, you say, just turn out your feet and point your toes
and you'll look just like a ballet dancer
— but not feel like one —
for this trained position has been brought about
through special muscle developments…
the buttocks and upper thighs work hard to keep this position intact.

So, the next time you see
a beautiful ballet performance at the theatre —
legs and feet so gracefully ‘turned out’,
moving and bounding in many directions,
remember that this muscle-held position
requires years of practice to develop a position held constant
in the thought-forces of a determined body strength.

Ottawa, 30 July 1989

The dancer — Life’s eternal dance (a dancer’s prayer) / Танцор — Вечный танец жизни

Let us rejoice in the Dance!..
Let movements become boundless,
freeing thoughts with patterns many...

Let pliés bend low in humble preparation...
Let developés develop loving ways of graceful deeds...
Let attitudes become poised in positive praise...
Let extensions stretch in expectation to fulfil...
Let beats be replete with beatitudes many...
Let leaps with courageous attempts
fly above earth-bound gravitational fears...
Let the dancer rejoice in rhythmic praise
at man’s constant need to break the bonds of limitations...

His inner vision is
to fly without wings,
to stretch his body form,
to rise up and beyond time and space restrictions...

In order for all these variations (ad infinitum)
to be expressed,
the dancer must first and always
be bound by the most strict of disciplined ways
so he may find within shape-ordered systematized deviations
his fully developed strengths.

He stretches, strains, strives for perfection itself...
to glimpse his soul’s desire for freedom,
then to sustain this freedom in movement-patterns
of Life’s eternal demand —
to Dance!

Ottawa (Monday, 3 a.m.), 24 July 1989

Gracefully, the dancer... / Грациозно, танцорка...

Her arms swept gracefully
across the tendril of
the geometric design that time allows,
each space — a pause,
before the next tender, graceful attempt
to achieve that rhythm
that only the universe
of perfect geometric swirls of perfection
can express —
and again the dancer pauses —
a time to love and to laugh
and, if necessary, to weep.

Her movement filled with a longing desire
to be that beauty
where all movement conforms to poetry,
where all movement has a depth,
a basis deep in the encircling womb of intent.

Daily she danced, never tiring,
her heart in a perfect rhythm
as she lovingly formed structured designs
that only an architect can interpret,
for life itself had become a never-ending dance.

She bowed her head in gratitude,
for the applause came from the Creator
and, as she bespoke a psalm,
her body sang into eternity.

Ottawa, 10 November 2004

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