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POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCLXVII): IRELAND – Oscar WILDE (1856 – 1900): “At Verona”, “Verona”

February 27th, 2014 · 1 Comment · Diaspora, International Media, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCLXVII): IRELAND – Oscar WILDE (1856 – 1900): “At Verona”, “Verona”
Verona

At Verona
Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)

HOW steep the stairs within Kings’ houses are
For exile-wearied feet as mine to tread,
And O how salt and bitter is the bread
Which falls from this Hound’s table,–better far

That I had died in the red ways of war,
Or that the gate of Florence bare my head,
Than to live thus, by all things comraded
Which seek the essence of my soul to mar.

‘Curse God and die: what better hope than this?
He hath forgotten thee in all the bliss
Of his gold city, and eternal day’–
Nay peace: behind my prison’s blinded bars
I do possess what none can take away,
My love, and all the glory of the stars.

dog fresco
Verona
Oscar WILDE (1854-1900)

Pe scările acestui vechi palat,
Cu suflet greu, mă-ncumet să purced:
Dar pâinea e sărată, mult prea, cred,
Ogarului să-ncerc să îi fi dat.

Când visul inimii va fi să moară,
La porţile Florenţei, ferecate,
Amară-i pâinea de odinioară,
Când sunt căzut în lupta din cetate.

Afurisit să fie Domnul meu: fiind rănit, ce soartă voi avea?
Mă simt uitat, în urbe, printre voi…
Zic: “Pace Vouă!” din celula mea.
Chemat la Judecata de Apoi,
În glorie, privesc un cer şi-o stea.

Rendered in Romanian by Constantin ROMAN,
© 2014 Copyright Constantin ROMAN, London

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