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17th Translation Contest: "The Sounds of Silence" » English to Montenegrin » Entry by Vuko Strugar


Source text in English

Translation by Vuko Strugar (#23551)

A theme of the age, at least in the developed world, is that people crave silence and can find none. The roar of traffic, the ceaseless beep of phones, digital announcements in buses and trains, TV sets blaring even in empty offices, are an endless battery and distraction. The human race is exhausting itself with noise and longs for its opposite—whether in the wilds, on the wide ocean or in some retreat dedicated to stillness and concentration. Alain Corbin, a history professor, writes from his refuge in the Sorbonne, and Erling Kagge, a Norwegian explorer, from his memories of the wastes of Antarctica, where both have tried to escape.

And yet, as Mr Corbin points out in "A History of Silence", there is probably no more noise than there used to be. Before pneumatic tyres, city streets were full of the deafening clang of metal-rimmed wheels and horseshoes on stone. Before voluntary isolation on mobile phones, buses and trains rang with conversation. Newspaper-sellers did not leave their wares in a mute pile, but advertised them at top volume, as did vendors of cherries, violets and fresh mackerel. The theatre and the opera were a chaos of huzzahs and barracking. Even in the countryside, peasants sang as they drudged. They don’t sing now.

What has changed is not so much the level of noise, which previous centuries also complained about, but the level of distraction, which occupies the space that silence might invade. There looms another paradox, because when it does invade—in the depths of a pine forest, in the naked desert, in a suddenly vacated room—it often proves unnerving rather than welcome. Dread creeps in; the ear instinctively fastens on anything, whether fire-hiss or bird call or susurrus of leaves, that will save it from this unknown emptiness. People want silence, but not that much.
Tema našeg doba, makar u razvijenom svijetu, je da ljudi žude za tišinom, a ne mogu da je pronađu. Grmljavina saobraćaja, neumorno pištanje telefona, digitalni razglasi u autobusima i vozovima, televizori koji trešte čak i u praznim kancelarijama, sve to je beskrajna artiljerija buke i ometanje. Čovječanstvo samo sebe iscrpljuje bukom a čezne za njenom suprotnošću – bilo u divljini, u prostranstvu okeana ili u nekom skloništu posvećenom miru i koncentraciji. Alen Korbin, profesor istorije, piše iz svog utočišta u Sorboni, a Erling Kage, norveški istraživač, iz svojih sjećanja na pustinje Antarktika, gdje su obojica pokušali da pobjegnu.

A uprkos tome, kako g. Korbin ukazuje u "Istoriji tišine", danas vjerovatno nema ništa više buke nego što je nekad bilo. Prije automobilskih guma punjenih vazduhom, gradske ulice su bile pune zaglušujućeg klopota točkova s metalnim paocima i udaraca konjskih potkovica o kamen. Prije dobrovoljnog izgnanstva u svijet mobilnih telefona, autobusi i vozovi su odzvanjali od razgovora. Prodavci novina svoje zalihe nisu ostavljali na nijemim gomilama, već su ih oglašavali najjačim glasom, isto kao što su to radili i prodavci trešanja, ljubičica i svježe pastrmke. Pozorište i opera su bili haos uzvika odobravanja i negodovanja. Čak i na selu, seljaci su pjevali dok su orali. Danas ne pjevaju.

Ono što se promijenilo nije toliko nivo buke, na koju su se prethodna stoljeća takođe žalila, već nivo ometanja, ometanje zauzima prostor u koji bi tišina mogla da se probije. I tu se nazire još jedan paradoks, jer kad se probije – u dubini borove šume, u goloj pustinji, u iznenada ispražnjenoj sobi – često se pokaže da izaziva nervozu umjesto da je dobrodošla. Uvlači se strah; uvo se instinktivno lijepi na bilo šta, bilo to pucketanje vatre ili poj ptica ili šumorenje lišća, što će ga sačuvati od te nepoznate praznine. Ljudi žele tišinu, ali ipak ne previše.


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