Page:Performing Without a Stage - The Art of Literary Translation - by Robert Wechsler.pdf/68

 George F. Peters Archaic Torso of Apollo We never knew his body’s marvelous crown, in which the eyes were growing. All the same his torso glows like a candelabra’s flame, in which his vision, at the most turned down, endures and shines. Or else his breast’s curved force could not blind you, and in the gentle flowing of his loins a smile would not be going to that same center, his conception’s source. Or else this stone would stand deformed and small under the shoulders’ diaphanous fall, not glistening like fur on beasts of prey; and would not burst out all along its border like a star: for all the while his torso’s play is watching you. You must put your life in order.

Robert Bly Archaic Torso of Apollo We have no idea what his fantastic head was like, where the eyeballs were slowly swelling. But his body now is glowing like a gas lamp, whose inner eyes, only turned down a little, hold their flame, shine. If there weren’t light, the curve of the breast wouldn’t blind you, and in the swerve of the thighs a smile wouldn’t keep on going toward the place where the seeds are. If there weren’t light, this stone would look cut off where it drops clearly from the shoulders, its skin wouldn’t gleam like the fur of a wild animal, and the body wouldn’t send out light from every edge as a star does. . . for there is no place at all that isn’t looking at you. You must change your life. 68