Lord Byron (1788-1824)
LORD BYRON:
Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage
Canto the Fourth
CXLI
He heard it, but he heeded not — his eyes
Were with his heart, and that was far away;
He reck’d not of the life he lost nor prize,
But where his rude hut by the Danube lay,
There where his young barbarians all at play,
There was their Dacian mother — he, their sire,
Butcher’d to make a Roman holiday —
All this rush’d with his blood — Shall he expire
And unavenged? Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire!
Lordul Byron (1788-1824)
Pelerinajul Tânărului Harold
Al patrulea Canto CXLI
El auzise, fără să- şi dea seama. – căci gândul lui
Cu inima era, dar ea era acuma prea departe;
Şi nu mai cugeta la viaţa scursă, nici ls răsplata dată orişicui,
Ci doar la vatră visul să-l mai poarte,
Pe valea Dunarii, unde-s la joacă toţi fraţii săi barbari,
Cu gândul e la muma-i, la Dacia străbună,
Adânc măcelărită de braţ de legionari…
Tot visu-i i-e in sânge – Cum, moartea să-l răpună
Nerăsplătit? La arme, Goţi, mânia vă răzbună!
Versiune in limba Romănă
Constantin ROMAN
Londra, Ianuarie 2012
© Constantin ROMAN
Trajan's Column - Roman legions crossing the Danube
Trajan viewing the slaughtered Dacians (Column Rome)
Dear Constant: I’ve been reading about this poem and then I’ve understood better the meaning of verses you’ve choosen. A good selection, because helps to appreciate better this poet’s art. Thank you very much.