Celaya is an artiste of many facets: born in the Basque country at the time of its heavy Industry boom, he forged for himself a career in Engineering, which allowed him sufficient financial independence to follow the interest closest to his heart: poetry and left-wing politics. He succeeded to carve for himself a reputation of an “engaged” poet and fan of Fidel Castro and his Cuban social experiment.
Celaya’s silence over the plight of his fellow writers in Berlin (1953), Budapest (1956), Prague (1968), or indeed in Stalin’s gulags, is consistent with his putting his name forward as a candidate of the Spanish Communist Party, in the 1977 general elections, in his native Guipuzkoa.. By this time he was idolised as a national literary hero (and survivor), having heaped on him moult Literary prizes: Critics’ Award (1957), Libera Stampa International Award (1963), Etna-Taormina International Award (1967), Atalaya Award (1967) and finally the National Spanish Literature Award (1986).
Given such success, it is reasonable to think that Celaya may have dreaamt of a Nobel Prize, but this, sadly, eluded him, as by then, such accolades went to other “engaged” fellow-writers in the East, such as Pasternak (1958), Solzhenytsyn, (1970) Walesa (1983), or Brodsky (1987), who appraised the world of the stark realities of the ‘communist paradise’ – realities which Celaya, sadly, chose to ignore.
Notwithstanding such reticence, the poet remains one of the greats of Basque (and Spanish) literature, who left behind a prodigal output.
Entries Tagged as 'OPINION'
Poetry in Translation (CXXI): Gabriel CELAYA (Guipúzcoa, 1911 – Madrid, 1991), Basque Poet – “TEROAREA SPAŢIULUI” (Terror of the Open, Terror de lo Abierto)
August 29th, 2012 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (CXXI): Gabriel CELAYA (Guipúzcoa, 1911 – Madrid, 1991), Basque Poet – “TEROAREA SPAŢIULUI” (Terror of the Open, Terror de lo Abierto) · International Media, OPINION, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations
Tags:"Constantin Roman"·"Gabriel Celaya' basque·"Terror de lo Abierto"·"Terror of the Open"·Communist·poet·romanian·Spain·translation·“TEROAREA SPAŢIULUI”
Isabela Vasiliu-Scraba: Noica printre oamenii mici şi mari ai culturii noastre
July 27th, 2012 · 4 Comments · Diaspora, International Media, OPINION, PEOPLE
Prezentând filozofia românească în The Encyclopedia of Philosophy (vol.VII, Macmillan, New York, 1972), Mircea Eliade plasase filosofia noiciană în descendenţa gândirii profesorului lor comun, faimosul Nae Ionescu (7) pe care de asemenea îl înfăţişase într-unul din volumele anterioare ale enciclopediei din spaţiul lingvistic englezesc (vol.IV, 1967, p. 212), spre exasperarea neputincioasă a satrapilor culturii comuniste care-l voiau scos cu totul pe Nae Ionescu din cultura noastră. Doar Anton Dumitriu avusese tăria şi perseverenţa de a prezenta o latură a gândirii naeionesciene in a doua ediţie a renumitei sale Istorii a logicii, spre sincera admiraţie a lui Constantin Noica.
Tags:"Isabela Vasiliu-Scraba" Noica Eliade Cioran "Mihai Nasta"
Isabela Vasiliu-Scraba despre procesul lui Mircea Vulcănescu
March 21st, 2012 · Comments Off on Isabela Vasiliu-Scraba despre procesul lui Mircea Vulcănescu · OPINION, PEOPLE
Pe 30 august 1946 Mircea Vulcănescu avea să fie din nou arestat, de astă dată până la moartea survenită în octombrie 1952 (v. Măriuca Vulcănescu, Desfăşurare cronologică, în vol. Mircea Vulcănescu, Ultimul Cuvânt, Bucureşti, Ed. Crater, 2000).
Sora lui Vulcănescu (urmând şi ea a fi băgată după gratii) notase că în 20 decembrie 1947 la Curtea de Apel procurorul ceruse achitarea lui Mircea Vulcănescu, condamnat la 8 ani în procesul din 10 oct. 1946, dar suspendat din postul de Director al Datoriei Publice abia pe 11 iulie 1947.
În decembrie 1947 încă mai era ministru de justiţie Lucreţiu Pătrăşcanu (1900-1954). Acesta dorea achitarea filozofului despre care scrisese că muşcă din Dumnezeire ca viermele din fruct (v. Lucreţiu Pătrăşcanu, Curente şi tendinţe în filozofia românească, Bucureşti, 1946, Ed. Politică, 1971). Pe 30 decembrie 1947 Regele a abdicat şi s-a proclamat “democraţia populară”, cu o constituţie din care nu lipsea rolul conducător al URSS. Ministru de externe era Ana Pauker iar ministru de justiţie Avram Bunaciu care l-a înlocuit pe Lucreţiu Pătrăşcanu arestat în 1948 şi asasinat în puşcărie de şeful Securităţii, generalul rus Ghe. Pintilie (Pantiuşa).
In apărarea citită la procesul din octombrie 1946, când aparenţa statului de drept camufla înrobirea rusească sub mascarada unei democraţii “ocrotită” de observatori englezi şi americani, Mircea Vulcănescu spusese că “fără dreptate nu este posibilă convieţuirea omenească”. In partea a doua a filmului difuzat pe 10 oct. 2009 la TV-Cultural, s-a extras acest citat din Vulcănescu, nespunând nimic despre contextul politic care i-a anulat din start orice conţinut de adevăr. In plus s-ar fi putut arăta (pe cazul arestării ministrului de justiţie, sau chiar al farsei de proces în care a fost condamnat filozoful) că instaurarea sclaviei de după 1945 nu a presupus “convieţuirea”, ci crima şi fără de legea făcute în văzul lumii. S-ar fi putut…dacă filmul n-ar fi înfăţişat pe alocuri (prin părţile esenţiale…) viziunea cripto-comunistă din istoria “oficială” de după 1990.
Tags:"Isabela Vasiliu-Scraba"·"Mircea Vulcănescu·comunism·Filosofie·inchisori·Romania
Poetry in Translation (CII): Corneliu Vadim TUDOR (b. 1949) Season’s Greetings (“Urare de iarna”, “Saptamina”, 6 ianuarie 1984)
February 22nd, 2012 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (CII): Corneliu Vadim TUDOR (b. 1949) Season’s Greetings (“Urare de iarna”, “Saptamina”, 6 ianuarie 1984) · OPINION, PEOPLE, quotations, Translations
Season’s Greetings
By Corneliu Vadim TUDOR
(“Urare de iarna”, “Saptamina”, 6 ianuarie 1984)
Greatest woman seen so far
Of the whole of our nation
She’s the heavens brightest star
Clad in the Romanian fashion.
It’s Elena Ceausescu
Purest is her vibrant aim
The best mum to our rescue
Coming with a science brain.
Her accomplishments are greater
Aiming high as our guide
In supporting our Leader
Standing proudly by his side.
English version by Constantin ROMAN,
© copyright Constantin ROMAN, London 2012
Tags:"Poetry in Translation"·"Vadim Tudor"·Ceausescu·ditty·English·poetry·romanian·sycophant·translation
Domnikios et Tovaras
January 15th, 2012 · Comments Off on Domnikios et Tovaras · OPINION, PEOPLE, quotations, Translations
Mais il y a une chose bien plus profonde qui distingue les Domnikios des Tovaras : c’est le sens même de parvenu du nom « Tovaras », le fait que celui-ci ne puisse être rattaché à aucune tradition. Car l’étymologie de « Tovaras » n’est nullement latine, mais slave, et les Slaves sont arrivés tard dans ces lointaines contrées, très tard dans l’histoire de Domnikia. Ce sont les Slaves qui ont donné le nom « Tovaras » aux serfs sans nom, car ils semblaient peu engageants et ainsi ils les ont appelé « Tovaritch ». En fait, avant que les Slaves n’envahissent Domnikia, on appelait toujours les fils sans nom des traînées avec un court et tranchant : « Hé, toi ! », et les serfs rampaient avec empressement vers leurs maîtres. Mais, maintenant, que leurs terres avaient été piétinées et leurs attributs diminués, les Domnikios, qui ont toujours et de manière congénitale zézayé, ont édicté que les serfs devaient recevoir le nom de « Tovaras », comme une sorte d’acceptation de mauvaise grâce de l’intrusion slave dans les affaires féodales de la principauté domnikienne.
Et c’est ainsi que les malheurs ont commencé, et que les digues de l’Enfer se sont rompues, et nous allions assister à des siècles de guerres civiles entre les Domnikios et les Tovaras, que, de temps à autre, entrecoupaient de brèves périodes de coexistence durant lesquelles tous retenaient leur souffle.
En Français par Radu PORTOCALA
© Romanian Studies Centre, London 2003 &
© Constantin ROMAN
Tags:"Constantin Roman"·"Radu Portocala"·Domnikio·essay·Français·Histoire·historique·Tovaras
Why I love Shoreditch
October 17th, 2011 · Comments Off on Why I love Shoreditch · Diaspora, OPINION, PEOPLE
There are so many reasons why I love Shoreditch: the braggards, the hipsters, the charity mums, the Sunday flower market jaunters. Shoreditch is not just a pastiche; it is a living organism that with every day awakes, kicking and screaming to life, reminding the world of what a unique, if somewhat troublesome child it is.
But for all the reasons I love Shoreditch, there is truly only one that pins my heart to a hoarding on Great Eastern Street, announcing to the passing crowds of out-of-town commuters and lorry drivers alike that this is the place of my soul; and that is the sprayed up, pasted-over and fucked-up walls of the hallowed triangle and its periphery.
For as many years as I have worked in the area, and eventually come to live in, I have been inspired to document the activities of each and every ne’er do well that sees fit to climb out of bed at a god-forsaken hour and crawl through the darkened back streets and passages for the sake of their art, for ‘as the city sleeps, the walls they weep’.
Poetry in English (XCIV): Constantin ROMAN – “Ode to a British Chicken”
October 13th, 2011 · Comments Off on Poetry in English (XCIV): Constantin ROMAN – “Ode to a British Chicken” · Diaspora, OPINION, Poetry
Poetry in English (XCIV): Constantin ROMAN – “Ode to a British Chicken”
Ode to a British Chicken
My British Chicken,
I’m truly smitten
‘cause, if you vanished
I ‘d be really lost.
I‘d rather have you roasted,
As without you
My Menu, on the spot,
Will soon be tossed.
My ever-present chick,
You’re inexpendable
My gas ring will be pining
Without you
And British Gas,
For sure, will be insolvent,
As its best client,
Now will go to pass.
My dearest fowl
You got a life in prison
With all your sisters, without rhyme or reason,
All jam packed cheek by jowl.
In batteries you are now a statistic,
Industrial gulag, which puts to shame
A number rather more characteristic
Of Soviet era, at its grimmest game.
My dearest Supermarket, I’m addicted
To buy for ever all your tasteless junk,
As my dependency is now to be predicted
A boring number of a faceless skunk.
Your sheer manipulation, so disgusting,
Is flying in the face of common sense.
Blindfolded crowds are being hold to ransom,
Automatons with limbs, but without brains..
In my despair I’ll try to be more vocal
But am afraid, as being middle-class,
I will be deemed to fart above my station
And turn my reputation to an ass.
Copyright © Constantin ROMAN
London, October 2011
Tags:"Constantin Roman"·"Edwina Currie"·egg·poem·poetry·salmonella