(The Murray, Mildura II (1978) by Fred Williams)Epiphany - ReflectionsBy Imants Ziedonis (my transla

(The Murray, Mildura II (1978) by Fred Williams)Epiphany - ReflectionsBy Imants Ziedonis (my translation from the Latvian original)Felt the bridge. Going by water. Going by moonbeams, by the lit path in the water. Going by rings of waves, by choppy ice, by the wind rippling the water’s surface. Ducks cast themselves over, bees pass over, and bats cross in the night. I go across.I trust that one can walk on reflections. By the reflections of the firs, oaks and bullrushes. By your reflection, I cross over.Your “Come over!” is like a reflection, your raised hand waves over the river to my hazel bushes. The fire by your tent, throws its reflection over the river. From that riverside sounds the cry, “Come!” - is it a voice or an echo?Try having some doubts, half way across - many have drowned like that. Shadows and reflections, and whispers, it seems frozen, it seems not frozen, it seems a safe path, it seems like lights shining in the water. (Go, go! - someone is calling you there!) Did you cross? It seems you went, it seems you didn’t, seems you fell in, and seems you called for help.That is how we go, from person to person. And no-one knows if they crossed over. There is no-one to ask.One went and didn’t cross, another believed and made it over. They both went by one and the same reflection in the water. One went to heaven, and the other went to hell - for  one and the same, “Come!”Those who go by a wood and steel bridge, they go away and then return - high above the river, as if there is no river. Those who go by reflections, by shadows and tracings, by the lilac scent on the water - they don’t return. No-one knows if they make it over, or not. All that is left is that cry, of joy or fear, heard over the water. To reach another, there is no bridge, no causeway. You can only travel to another by reflections.(see below for the Latvian original by Imants Ziedonis)Tilta sajūta. Iešana pa ūdeni. Iešana pa mēness staru, pa gaismas ceļu ūdenī. Iešana pa ūdens riņķiem, pa ledus vižņiem, pa vēja vizmu ūdensvirsū. Pīles aizlaižas pāri, pāri aizlaižas bites, sikspārņi naktī. Es eju pāri.Es ticu, ka var staigāt pa atspulgiem. Pa egļu, kalmju un ozolu atspulgiem upē. Pa tavu atspulgu es eju pāri.Tavs „atnāc!” kā atspulgs, tava paceltā roka sveicinot krīt pāri upei līdz manam lazdu krūmam. Ugunskurs uz tavas telts met atspulgu pāri upei. No viņa krasta kliedz „nāc!”. Vai tā ir balss vai atbalss?Pamēģini pusceļā apšaubīt – daudzi tā ir noslīkuši. Ēnas un atspīdumi, un čuksti, it kā aizsalusi upe, it kā neaizsalusi, it kā droša laipa, it kā gaismas ceļš ūdenī. (Ej, ej! – tur tevi kāds sauc!) Vai pārgāja? It kā pārgāja, it kā nepārgāja; it kā iegavilējās, it kā palīgā sauca.Tā cilvēks pie cilvēka iet. Un neviens nezina, vai pārgāja. Nav kam prasīt. Viens gāja un nepārgāja, otrs ticēja un pārgāja. Abi gāja pa vienu un to pašu atspulgu ūdenī. Viens uzgāja debesīs, otrs nogāja ellē – pa vienu un to pašu „nāc!”.Kas iet pa koka un dzelzsbetona tiltiem, tie iet prom un nāk atpakaļ – augstu pāri upei, upes tikpat kā nav. Kas iet pa atspulgiem, pa ēnām un atspīdumiem, pa ievu smaržu ūdenī – tie atpakaļ neatnāk. Neviens nezina, vai viņi aiziet vai neaiziet.Tikai paliek viņu prieka vai baiļu kliedziens pār ūdeņiem. Uz cilvēku neved neviena laipa, neviens tilts.Uz cilvēku var aiziet tikai pa atspulgiem. -- source link

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