Friday, October 16, 2009

Bethesda Art Festival.

12th Annual Bethesda Row Arts Festival, Maryland
Saturday, October 17th from 11am – 6pm
Sunday, October 18th from 11am – 5pm

My booth is # E6 (on Elm Street)

Each October, the streets of Bethesda Row are transformed into an outdoor art gallery of spectacular fine arts and crafts. More than 200,000 people have enjoyed the Bethesda Row Arts Festival in the heart of Bethesda’s designated Arts & Entertainment District since it began in 1997. This year many of the world's finest arts and crafts will be presented.

The Festival, underwritten by Federal Realty Investment Trust, features the work of 180 leading artists and crafters from the Mid-Atlantic and around the country. On display will be the finest in: ceramics, drawings, fabrics, glass, graphics, jewelry, metalwork, paintings, pastels, photography, printmaking, sculpture, wood and mixed media.

The outdoor event is held rain or shine on Bethesda Row located on Woodmont and Bethesda Avenues, and Elm Street, east of Arlington Road. The festival is in easy walking distance from the Bethesda Metro station and 15 minutes from downtown Metrorail stops.

Image: Ex libris (etching/aquatint) I made for Ilona Gargajina in 1996. This bookplate was a part of exhibit dedicated to Paul Verlaine, French Poet.

Here is very interesting page about translating Verlaine.


Долгие песни

Скрипки осенней
Зов неотвязный,
Сердце мне ранят,
Думы туманят,

Сплю, холодею,
Вздрогнув, бледнею
С боем полночи.
Вспомнится что-то.
Все без отчета
Выплачут очи.

Выйду я в поле.
Ветер на воле
Мечется, смелый.
Схватит он, бросит,
Словно уносит
Лист пожелтелый.

(Перевод В. Брюсов)

Autumn Song, By Paul Verlaine 
     Translation by Eli Siegel 

The long sighs 
Of the violins 
Of autumn 
Hurt my heart 
With a languor 
Of sameness.

All stifling 
And pale, when 
The hour sounds, 
I remember 
Days of once 
And I weep.

And I let myself go 
With the evil wind 
Which carries me 
Here, beyond, 
Like the leaf 
Which has died.

Paul-Marie Verlaine

Chanson d’Automne

Les sanglots longs
Des violons
De l’automne
Blessent mon cœur
D’une langueur

Tout suffocant
Et blême, quand
Sonne l’heure,
Je me souviens
Des jours anciens
Et je pleure;

Et je m’en vais
Au vent mauvais
Qui m’emporte
Deçà, delà,
Pareil à la
Feuille morte.


Anonymous said...

I think the translation by Eli Siegel is beautiful.

Samivel said...

Gorgeous poem. Gorgeous translation -- so fair, so just.