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POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCXLVIII): ENGLAND – Louis de BERNIÈRES (b. 1954): “Romance”, “Romanţă”

January 28th, 2014 · Books, International Media, Poetry, quotations, Translations, Uncategorized

POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCXLVIII): ENGLAND – Louis de BERNIÈRES (b. 1954): “Romance”, “Romanţă”

BERNIÈRES by Nicola Jennings

BERNIÈRES by Nicola Jennings

Romanţă
Louis de BERNIÈRES
(n. Londra, 1954)

“Te iubesc!”- a spus ea, surprinsă să fi rostit-o pentru prima oară,
Şi întrebându-se cum ar fi: a descoperit
O situaţie interesantă!

“Şi eu te iubesc!”- a răspuns el, repetând o frază obişnuită,
Plină de anticipări nefaste, şi sperând
Sa o îmbrobodească şi pe ea.

“Hai, vrei să ne căsătorim?” l-a intrebat ea, visând
O casă splendidă, dându-şi demisia din slujba ei plictisitoare,
Făcând copii, pe spezele lui, şi devenind o femeie respectabilă.

“Sigur, hai să ne căsătorim!” a spus el, anticipând
Mese regulate, fără obligaţii cazaniere, amor din belşug, şi,
Mai ales, năutatea adulterului.

“Uite ce lună frumoasă!” a exclamat ea, gândindu-se
Că este ca în filme, mult prea potrivit,
Şi de un romantism perfect.

“Razele Lunii sunt pentru noi!” i-a răspuns el, suav, băgându-şi
Mâna în bluza ei, făcând-o sa îngheţe, înainte ca ea să înţeleagă,
Că ar fi normal, şi scuzabil, acum că sunt logodiţi.

“Mă iubeşti cu adevărat?” a întrebat ea, aplecându-şi capul
Pe haina lui de ştofă ecoseză, observând cât de aspră
Este mâna lui, mângâindu-i sânul.

“Mai mult ca niciodată!”, a răspuns el, sărutându-i fruntea
Pe cărarea creştetului şi observând cât de rece
Este sânul ei, la pipăitul mâinii sale.

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

"Romance"

“Romance”

ROMANCE
Louis de BERNIÈRES
(b. London, 1954)

‘I love you’, she said, never having said it before,
And wondering what it was like; she found it
An interesting experience.

‘I love you too’, he said, having said it many times
For nefarious purpose, and hoping it would
Work with her as well.

‘Shall we get married?’ she said, thinking of a\Bijou house, giving up her boring job,
Having kids at his expense, and becoming respectable.

‘Yes, let’s get married!’ he said, thinking of
Regular meals, no housework, steady sex and
The novelty of adultery.

‘Isn’t it the moon lovely?’ she said, thinking of how
Like a novel it was, how very appropriate,
And impeccably romantic.

‘It’s shining for us! He said suavely, dipping his
Hand inside her blouse, so that she froze before realising
It’s all right, it’s excusable, now that we are engaged.

‘Do you really love me?’ she said, nestling her head
On his shoulder, as she noticed how rough
Was his hand, rotating on her breast.

‘More than anything,’ he said, kissing her head
On the parting, and noticing how cold
Was her breast, beneath his rotating hand.

(From: ‘Imagining Alexandria’)

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POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCXLVII): Louis de BERNIÈRES (b. 1954, London), ENGLAND, “Le garçon maudit”, “The doomed Boy”

January 27th, 2014 · Books, International Media, Poetry, quotations, Translations

POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCXLVII): Louis de BERNIÈRES (b. 1954, London), ENGLAND, “Le garçon maudit”, “The doomed Boy”

...réchauffé brièvement par des joies passagères...

…réchauffé brièvement par des joies passagères…

Le garçon maudit
Louis de Bernières
(né en 1954, à Londres)

Il était beau comme un Dieu, qui sentait
Le parfum viril de Cologne, montrant ses dents brillantes,
Quand il souriait, faisant une conversation pleine de confiance,
Ayant bien vécu, grâce á la richesse de son père.
Quand ce bel homme passait dans la rue, on savait bien
Que toutes les femmes desserraient leurs corsages,
Caressant et lissant leurs cheveux : elles le considéraient
Respectueux de garder ses mains pour lui-même.
Il n’aura jamais été vu dans les rues du port,
Avec ses lèvres idéales et ses membres idéales,
Tourbillonnant et dansant dans les boites de nuit,
Ou bien faisant le pied de grue, dans l’ombre,
Au coin des rues sombres, réchauffé brièvement par des joies passagères,
Voletant et glissant, un chapeau rabattu sur son visage
Comme tous les autres garçons beaux et maudits.

Version Française par :
Constantin ROMAN, Londres,
© 2014, Droits d’auteur: Constantin ROMAN

Imagining Alexandria

Imagining Alexandria

The Doomed Boy
Louis de Bernières
(b. 1954, London)

He was handsome as Endymion, cast about him
The scent of virile cologne, showed brilliant teeth
When he smiled, made confident conversation,
Lived well on his father’s wealth.
It was known that the women loosened their gowns and
Stroked their hair, and preened
As this beautiful man came by. They thought him
Respectful for keeping his hands to himself.
He wasn’t detected down in the streets of the port,
With his ideal lips and his ideal limbs,
Whirling and dancing in basements, standing in shadows
On dim street corners, warmed briefly by transient joys,
Flitting and gliding, his hat pulled over his face
Like all the other doomed and beautiful boys.

(From: “Imagining Alexandria: Poems in Memory of CP Cavafy”)

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POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCXLVI): Louis de BERNIÈRES (b. 1954, London), ENGLAND, “Tânărul chipeş”, “The doomed Boy”

January 26th, 2014 · International Media, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCXLVI): Louis de BERNIÈRES (b. 1954, London), ENGLAND, “Tânărul chipeş”, “The doomed Boy”

Endymion

Endymion

Tânărul chipeş
(The doomed Boy)
Louis de Bernières (n. 1954, Londra)

Când zâmbea, era chipeş ca Endymion,
Răspândea un aer de parfum viril,
Îşi arăta o dantură splendidă, evocând
O conversaţie matură,
Trăindu-şi huzurul din averea familiei.
Când bărbatul ăsta chipeş trecea, se zvonea
Că toate femeile îşi desnodau cordonul
Rochiilor, mângâindu-şi coafura şi înfoindu-se.
Îl considerau plin de respect,
Căci îsi păstra braţele strâns la piept.
Dar nu îl ştiau perindând străzile portului,
Cu buzele lui sensuale şi braţele vânjoase,
Dansând în lupanare, stând la colţ de stradă,
Gustând, în grabă, desfătări efemere,
Trecând iute, cu borul pălăriei tras peste ochi,
Ca mulţi alţi băieţi chipeşi, marcaţi de soartă.

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

... his ideal lips & his ideal limbs...

… his ideal lips & his ideal limbs…

The Doomed Boy
Louis de Bernières (b. 1954, London)

He was handsome as Endymion, cast about him
The scent of virile cologne, showed brilliant teeth
When he smiled, made confident conversation,
Lived well on his father’s wealth.
It was known that the women loosened their gowns and
Stroked their hair, and preened
As this beautiful man came by. They thought him
Respectful for keeping his hands to himself.
He wasn’t detected down in the streets of the port,
With his ideal lips and his ideal limbs,
Whirling and dancing in basements, standing in shadows
On dim street corners, warmed briefly by transient joys,
Flitting and gliding, his hat pulled over his face
Like all the other doomed and beautiful boys.

(from: ‘Imagining Alexandria’)

Louis de Bernieres

Louis de Bernieres

SHORT BIO: Novelist Louis de Bernières was born in Woolwich, London in 1954, but grew up in Surrey. He joined the army at 18 but left after spending four months at Sandhurst. After graduating from the Victoria University of Manchester, he took a postgraduate certificate in Education at Leicester Polytechnic and obtained his MA at the University of London.

Before writing full-time, he held many varied jobs including landscape gardener, motorcycle messenger and car mechanic. He also taught English in Colombia, an experience which determined the style and setting of his first three novels, The War of Don Emmanuel’s Nether Parts (1990), Señor Vivo and the Coca Lord (1991) and The Troublesome Offspring of Cardinal Guzman (1992), each of which was heavily influenced by South American literature, particularly ‘magic realism’.

In 1993, he was selected as one of the 20 ‘Best of Young British Novelists 2′ promotion in Granta magazine. His fourth novel, Corelli’s Mandolin, was published in the following year, winning the Commonwealth Writers Prize (Best Book). It was also shortlisted for the Sunday Express Book of the Year. Set on the Greek island of Cephalonia during the Second World War, the novel tells the story of a love affair between the daughter of a local doctor and an Italian soldier. It has become a worldwide bestseller and has now been translated into over 30 languages. A film adaptation of the novel was released in 2001, and the novel has also been adapted for the stage. In 2001, Red Dog was published – a collection of stories inspired by a statue of a dog encountered on a trip to a writers’ festival in Australia in 1998.
In 2009 he separated from his partner, Cathy, who took custody of their children, Robin and Sophie.[5] He had been spending much time away from his family touring. He subsequently attacked family lawyers as being too adversarial. Eventually, he gained equal custodial rights.

De Bernières is an avid musician. He plays the flute, mandolin, clarinet and guitar, although he considers himself an “enthusiastic but badly-educated and erratic” amateur. His literary work often references music and the composers he admires, such as the guitar works of Villa-Lobos and Antonio Lauro in the Latin American trilogy, and the mandolin works of Vivaldi and Hummel in Captain Corelli’s Mandolin.

Some of the stories are autobiographical, such as “Silly Bugger 1” about a boy who brings up an abandoned rook, which becomes his companion, the rook sitting on his shoulder as he goes about his life – de Bernières is pictured on his website with a rook sitting on his shoulder. Notwithstanding is rich in local detail, containing references to the nearby villages and towns of Godalming, Chiddingfold, Hambledon and Haslemere, as well as to Waitrose, Scats, the Institute of Oceanographic Sciences, the Merry Harriers pub and the “suicidal driving” of the nuns at St Dominic’s School. De Bernières reflects in the Afterword:

“I realised that I had set so many of my novels and stories abroad, because custom had prevented me from seeing how exotic my own country is. Britain really is an immense lunatic asylum. That is one of the things that distinguishes us among the nations… We are rigid and formal in some ways, but we believe in the right to eccentricity, as long as the eccentricities are large enough… Woe betide you if you hold your knife incorrectly, but good luck to you if you wear a loincloth and live up a tree.”

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POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCXLV): Giuseppe Gioacchino BELLI (1791-1863), Italian Trasteverin Poet: “ “La scrupulosa”, “Scrupule”

January 24th, 2014 · International Media, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations, Uncategorized

POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCXLV): Giuseppe Gioacchino BELLI (1791-1863), Italian Trasteverin Poet: “ “La scrupulosa”, “Scrupule”

Belli - La scrupulosa

Belli – La scrupulosa


La scrupolosa
Giuseppe Gioachino Belli
(1791-1863)

Inzomma, cazzo, se pò avé sto bbascio?
se pò ttastà un tantino er pettabbotto?
Ma nnun avé ppavura, che ffo adascio:
cuanto che ssento che cce tienghi sotto.

Ciai scrupolo? e dde cosa? E cche! tte fotto?!
Semo parenti? Sí, ppe vvia der cascio:
cuggini de cuggini: cascio cotto:
parenti come Ggnacchera e ssan Biascio.

Parenti, ggià! cche scrupoli der tarlo!
Per un bascio co mmé ttanta cusscenza,
eppoi te fai fischià ddar Padre Carlo.

Ma cche ccredi? che Cristo abbi pascenza
d’abbadà ssi tte bbascio, o ssi tte parlo?
A ste cojjonerie manco sce penza.

Roma, 22 gennaio 1833

Scrupule
Giuseppe Gioachino Belli
(1791-1863)

Ce naiba, n-o să-mi dai nici un sărut?
Nici sânul n-oi putea să ţi-l alint?
N-ai teamă, o s-am grije când te prind:
Doar vreau să aflu ce-ai pe dedesubt.

Ai scrupule? De ce? Nu suntem gata?
O să te-ncalec? Astea sunt prostii!
Suntem doar veri, doar veri, aşa cum ştii:
De-om face-o, n-o să ştie nici chiar Papa!

Incest? O, Doamne, astea-s baliverne!
Şi toate mofturile pentru un sărut!
Cu unchiul Ion ai fost sub aşternut!

Nici lui Christos nu-i pasă ce-i sub perne!
De te-aş pompa, nici naiba n-o să dea,
Căci lui, prin cap, nu-i trece-aşa ceva!

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

Belli: "Sonnets"

Belli: “Sonnets”

BIO NOTE: A collection of his “Roman Sonnets” was first published over 20 years after his death. Several others were found during the following years (some were unfinished), and the first complete edition was published almost one century later, in 1952. Much of their vigour depends on the use of roman dialect: a play on words or a typical expression is quite unique. For this reason they have never been kept in great consideration by “official” literature.

So far, English translations have been made by Eleonore Clark, William Carlos Williams, Harold Norse, Anthony Burgess, Peter Nicholas Dale, and Belli’s work has been translated into many other languages. Each sonnet contains a short story, an anecdote of everyday’s life; the main elements of the sketch quickly unwind in the opening verses, while the last ones lead to a brilliant conclusion, often ironical or comical, sometimes lyrical or even philosophical.
See full note on:
http://www.ggbellimosetti.altervista.org/ggbelli_in_english.htm

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POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCXLIV): Pierre REVERDY, (1889 – 1960), FRANCE, “Tard dans la vie”, “Late in life”, “Amurgul vieţii”

January 24th, 2014 · International Media, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Reviews, Translations, Uncategorized

POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCXLIV): Pierre REVERDY, (1889 – 1960), FRANCE, “Tard dans la vie”, “Late in life”, “Amurgul vieţii”

Pierre Reverdy

Pierre Reverdy

Tard dans la vie
Pierre Reverdy
(1889, Narbonne – 1960, Solesmes)

Je suis dur
Je suis tendre
Et j’ai perdu mon temps
A rêver sans dormir
A dormir en marchant
Partout où j’ai passé
J’ai trouvé mon absence
Je ne suis nulle part
Excepté le néant
Mais je porte caché au plus haut des entrailles
A la place ou la foudre a frappé trop souvent
Un coeur ou chaque mot a laissé son entaille
Et d’où ma vie s’égoutte au moindre mouvement

(From the volume: La liberté des mers)

Late in life
(Pierre Reverdy)

I am callous
I am tender
and I have wasted my time
dreaming without sleeping
sleeping while walking
everywhere I’ve gone
I’ve found myself absent
I belong nowhere
except the void
But I carry hidden high up in my bowels
At the spot where lightning has too often struck
A heart where each word has left its mark
And where my life trickles away with the slightest movement

(English translation by Michael Tweed)

Amurgul vieţii
(Pierre Reverdy)

sunt dur
sunt tandru
mi-am risipit o viaţă
visând cu ochi deschişi
dormind mereu în mers
şi peste tot trecut-am
doar regăsind absenţa
ne mai fiind aiurea
decât în negru-abis
si totuşi, am un spirit, adânc în trupul meu
acolo unde-un fulger mă scapără prea des
în suflet port o rimă urmându-mă mereu
făcând să-mi scurgă viaţa în chip neînţeles.

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

SHORT BIO: Pierre Reverdy (1889 – 1960), The son of a winegrower, Reverdy was born in southern France, in the region of Narbonne, and grew up near the Montagne Noire. The Reverdy ancestors were stonemasons and sculptors associated with work commissioned for churches.
Reverdy arrived in Paris in October 1910, devoting his early years there to his writing. It was in Paris, at the artistic enclave centered around the Bateau-Lavoir in Montmartre that he met he became friends with numerous artists such as Pablo Picasso, Georges Braque & Henri Matisse but also with literati such as: Guillaume Apollinaire, Max Jacob, Louis Aragon, André Breton, Philippe Soupault and Tristan Tzara. All would come to admire and champion Reverdy’s poetry.
In the first Surrealist Manifesto, André Breton hailed Reverdy as “the greatest poet of the time.” Louis Aragon said that for Breton, Soupault, Éluard and himself, Reverdy was “our immediate elder, the exemplary poet.” In 1917, together with Max Jacob, Vicente Huidobro and Guillaume Apollinaire, Reverdy founded the influential journal Nord-Sud (“North-South”) which contained many Dadaist and Surrealist contributions.
Reverdy was a somber man, whose strong spiritual inclinations led him over time to distance himself from the frenetic world of bohemian Paris. In 1926, in a ritualistic act signifying the renunciation of the material world, he burned many of his manuscripts in front of an assembly of friends. He converted to Catholicism and retreated with his wife, Henriette, to a small house located in proximity to a Benedictine abbey at Solesmes. Excluding intermittent periods when he visited Paris, Solesmes was his home for the next thirty years where he lived a “quasi-monastic life.”

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POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCXLIII): Cecco ANGIOLIERI, (1260 – ca. 1312), Italian-Tuscan Poet, “S’i’ fosse foco….”, “If I were Fire…”, “De-aşi fi un Foc de pară…”

December 27th, 2013 · International Media, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations, Uncategorized

POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCXLIII): Cecco ANGIOLIERI, (1260 – ca. 1312), Italian-Tuscan Poet, “S’i’ fosse foco….”, “If I were Fire…”, “De-aşi fi un Foc de pară…”

Cecco Angiolieri m:s

S’i’ fosse foco….
Cecco Angiolieri
(1260 – 1312)

S’i’ fosse foco, ardare’ ål mondo;
s’i’ fosse vento, lo tempestarei;
s’i’ fosse acqua, I’ l’annegarei;
s’i’ fosse Dio, mandereil’ en profondo;

s’i’ fosse papa, sare’ allor giocondo,
ché tutti cristiani embrigarei;
s’i’ fosse åmperator, sa’ che farei?
a tutti mozzarei lo capo a tondo.

S’i’ fosse morte, andarei a me’ padre;
s’i’ fosse vita, fuggirei da lui;
similemente faria da mi’ madre.

S’i’ fosse Cecco, com’ I’ sono e fui,
torrei le donne givani e leggiadre;
le zoppe e laide lasserei altrui.

Angiolieri Sonnet

If I were Fire…
Cecco Angiolieri
(1260-1312)

If I were Flame, the World would burn to ashes;
if I were Storm, I might as well destroy it;
if I were Hurricane, I certainly would drown it;
if I were God, I’d hurl it straight to Hell;
If I were Pope, I’d be too glad to hurry
And wipe out all Christians in the world;
If I were King, what else will I be doing?
I’d, rather, will behead the lot of them!
If I were Death, I’d look for my old Father;
If I were Life, most certainly will not,
And ditto for my suffering, old Mother.
True to Myself, as I had always been,
I’d keep in tow the loveliest of girls,
And leave the ugliest of them, to others.

English Verse by Constantin ROMAN,
© 2013, Copyright Constantin ROMAN, London

Guelphs and Ghibellins

De-aşi fi un foc de pară …
Cecco Angiolieri
(1260, Siena, Toscana – d. ca 1312, Siena, Toscana)

De-aşi fi un Foc de pară, aşi face scrum Pământul;
De aşi fi doar o Furtună, l-aşi face praf cu totul;
De aşi fi, măcar, Potop, l-aşi înneca, neghiobul;
De aşi fi un zeu, în furci i-ar şade trupul.

De-aşi fi un Papă-aşi merge-n mare grabă
Prin lume să anihilez Creştinii,
Fiind Împărat, prea plictisit de sfadă,
Îi voi scurta de-un cap pe toţi cretinii.

De ceasul Morţii, l-aşi căta pe tata,
De-aşi fi în Viaţă, aşi fugi departe,
Pe maică-mea, lăsând-o la o parte.

De aşi fi eu-însumi, ca întodeauna,
M-aşi veseli cu fetele frumoase,
Iar slutele – să tragă doar ponoase!

Rendered in Romanian by Constantin ROMAN,
© 2013, Copyright Constantin ROMAN, London


Cecco Angiolieri

Cecco Angiolieri

SHORT BIO: Cecco Angiolieri: There are about 110 sonnets attributed to Angiolieri (including some twenty of dubious provenance), which pick up the goliardic tradition and the tradition of poesia giocosa, and which, using colorful and realistic expressions, were impudent and light-heartedly blasphemous. One of Cecco’s more well-known poems is the sonnet S’ì fosse foco, arderei ‘l mondo (If I were fire, I would burn the earth), which is translated above, expresses his misanthropy as well as his passion for living.
Of late, criticism holds that it is not correct to search for autobiographical references in his compositions, given the strangely literary character of his poems. Even in those poems which seem most personal we find a taste for parody and caricature, and stylistic exaggeration, in which emotions and passions are the pretext for linguistic games. In these extreme expressions there is an enjoyment of impressing the reader, and the rejection of the ideals of courtly life and of the dolce stil novo. We are faced with a refined man of letters who knows well how to calculate his effects.
A citizen of Sienna, issued from a prominent family, young Angiolieri was involved in the hsitorica; war between the city’s Guelphs and Ghibelline. Forced into exile, for a brief five years the poet seems to have befriended Dante: as surmised from Sonnet 102 (from 1302-1303), addressed to Dante who was already in Verona, that during this period, Cecco was in Rome. Angiolieri’s last years are not well documented, as he died in debt and his destitute offsprings left Siena.This precarious end on a background of historical upheavals, resulted in a good part of the poet’s work to have been lost.
To date there seem to have been identified some 150 sonnets of Alghieri’s. These are written in the typical tradition of riotous, burlesque lyrics, considered one of the earliest examples of the vernacular verse in Italy. The immediacy of his style makes him, even today, one of the most loved poets among the young people, because he sees life in a manner which is gay and free of any inhibition.

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POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCXLII): Herbert ASQUITH, (1881-1947), ENGLISH Poet, “A Dedication”, “Inchinare”

December 24th, 2013 · International Media, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCXLII): Herbert ASQUITH, (1881-1947), ENGLISH Poet, “A Dedication”, “Inchinare”
pectoral cross

A Dedication
Herbert Asquith
(1881-1947)

FRIEND if all these verses die:
Soon will you, and soon will I
But, if any word should live,
Then that word to you I give.

Herbert Asquith Poems

Închinare
Herbert Asquith
(1881-1947)

Prietene, când versu-mi va muri,
Şi noi aşa ne-om duce.
Şi-o rimă, doar, de ar mai fi, –
La piept să-ţi fie cruce.

Rendered in Romanian by: Constantin ROMAN,
© 2013, Copyright Constantin ROMAN, London

SHORT BIO:
Herbert ASQUITH (1881-1947) was the son of the British Prime Minister and a President of the Oxford Union, who was called to the Bar in 1907. He wrote four volumes of poems, four novels and a memoir.

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POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCXLI): Herbert ASQUITH, (1881-1947), ENGLISH Poet, “The Fallen Subaltern”, “Soldatul-Erou”

December 23rd, 2013 · International Media, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCXLI): Herbert ASQUITH, (1881-1947), ENGLISH Poet, “The Fallen Subaltern”, “Soldatul-Erou”

The Great War
The Fallen Subaltern
Hebert Asquith
(1881-1947)

The starshells float above, the bayonets glisten;
We bear our fallen friend without a sound;
Below the waiting legions lie and listen
To us, who march upon their burial-ground.

Wound in the flag of England, here we lay him;
The guns will flash and thunder o’er the grave;
What other winding sheet should now array him,
What other music should salute the brave?

As goes the Sun-god in his chariot glorious,
When all his golden banners are unfurled,
So goes the soldier, fallen but victorious,
And leaves behind a twilight in the world.

And those who come this way, in days hereafter,
Will know that here a boy for England fell,
Who looked at danger with the eyes of laughter,
And on the charge his days were ended well.

One last salute; the bayonets clash and glisten;
With arms reversed we go without a sound:
One more has joined the men who lie and listen
To us, who march upon their burial-ground.

poppies2

Soldatul-Erou
Herbert Asquith
(1881-1947)

În cânt de clopote şi în sclipiri de săbii
Tovaraşul de arme-l îngropăm,
Iar în ţărână suflete-adormite
Ascultă cum păşim mormântul lor.

Acoperit în laurii de luptă,
Salut de tunuri şi de goarne sună:
Ce giulgiu de prea-sfânt o să-l cuprindă?
Ce imn o să ridice serafimii?

Când săbii de război sclipesc în soare
Şi steaguri sfinte flutură în ceruri,
Eroul va surâde, în izbândă,
Căci datoria şi-a facut-o bine.

În veci îi vom aduce osanale,
Căci pentru noi eroul a căzut,
Sfidând în faţă riscurile morţii,
Când din izbândă şi-a făcut un scut.

În imn de slavă, goarnele răsună:
Eroul sfânt îl vom lăsa in urmă,
În loc de veci, de-apururi să asculte
Ai noştri paşi, ce calcă pe morminte.

Rendered in Romanian by: Constantin ROMAN,
© 2013, Copyright Constantin ROMAN, London

Herbert Asquith (1881-1947), Poet

Herbert Asquith (1881-1947), Poet

SHORT BIO:
Herbert ASQUITH (1881-1947) was the second son of H. H. Asquith, British Prime Minister, with whom he is frequently confused, and younger brother of Raymond Asquith. His wife Lady Cynthia Asquith, whom he married in 1910, the daughter of Hugo Richard Charteris, 11th Earl of Wemyss (1857–1937), was also a writer.

Asquith was greatly affected by his service with the Royal Artillery in World War I. His poems include “The Volunteer” and “The Fallen Subaltern”, the latter being a tribute to fallen soldiers.

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POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCXL): British ANONYMOUS, “Love of Yesteryear”, “Lament”

December 19th, 2013 · International Media, Poetry, quotations, Translations

POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCXL): British ANONYMOUS, “Love of Yesteryear”, “Lament”

hugLove of Yesteryear
(British Anonymous)

As love of yesteryear is gone,
Lost in a dream of smoke,
Now I am sad and feel forlorn
With what I have to cope.
I dreamt of castles in the air
To share a love so true,
But now am lost and in despair
To have believed in you.
Gone are the nights of dreams so smug
For us a home to share:
I’d give a Kingdom for a hug,
Should you have one to spare.

© 2013, Copyright Constantin ROMAN, London

lament for love lost

LAMENT
(Poet Britanic Anonim)

Trecute sunt speranţele de ieri,
Prin ceaţa vieţii,
Fiind părăsit, mă simt stingher …
Ca toţi poeţii .
Că-n dragostea ce-am zămislit
Să fiu cu tine,
Tot visul ce am făurit
S-a stins in fine.
Căci in zadar o să aştept,
Să pun la cale
Odată să te strâng la piept…
Cu dor şi jale.

Romanian version by: Constantin ROMAN,
© 2013, Copyright Constantin ROMAN, London

hug-the-hurtkiss-the-brokenbefriend-the-lostlove-the-lonely-beauty-quote

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POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCXXXIX): Giuseppe Gioacchino BELLI, (1791 – 1863), Italian Poet of Trastevere Dialect, “Er mortorio de Leone Duodescimosiconno”, “The Funeral of Pope Leo XII”, “Papa Ludovic XII”

December 16th, 2013 · International Media, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

POETRY IN TRANSLATION (CCXXXIX): Giuseppe Gioacchino BELLI, (1791 – 1863), Italian Poet of Trastevere Dialect, “Er mortorio de Leone Duodescimosiconno”, “The Funeral of Pope Leo XII”, “Papa Ludovic XII”

Pope Leo XII

Pope Leo XII

Giuseppe Gioacchino BELLI, (1791 – 1863),
Er mortorio de Leone Duodescimosiconno

Jerzera er Papa morto c’è ppassato
propi’avanti, ar cantone de Pasquino.
Tritticanno la testa sur cuscino
pareva un angeletto appennicato.
Vienivano le tromme cor zordino,
poi li tammurri a tammurro scordato:
poi le mule cor letto a bbardacchino
e le chiave e ’r trerregno der papato.
Preti, frati, cannoni de strapazzo,
palafreggneri co le torce accese,
eppoi ste guardie nobbile der cazzo.
Cominciorno a intoccà ttutte le cchiese
appena uscito er morto da palazzo.
Che gran belle funzione a sto paese!

Source: http://www.almaclassics.com/excerpts/bellisonnets.pdf

Giuseppe Gioacchino BELLI, (1791 – 1863),
Trastevere dialect Poet
The Funeral of Pope Leo XII

Last night the late great Pope went cruising by
Pasquino’s corner, right in front of us,
head nodding on a bed of fluffiness
just like an angel kipping on the sly;
and then the muted buglers came on down,
and drummers drumming with a muffled din,
and mules to haul the mighty baldaquin,
and then the papal keys and papal crown;
friars and priests, and next a clapped-out gun,
and grooms who held aloft their flaming tapers,
and then those bloody guardsmen on display.
The bells of all the churches tolled as one
the moment that the corpse went on its way…
This country has such entertaining capers

Source: http://www.almaclassics.com/excerpts/bellisonnets.pdf

Giuseppe Gioacchino BELLI, (1791 – 1863),
Poet Trasteverin
Papa Ludovic XII

Aseară, Papa Ludovic plecat-a,
într-un cosciug, pornind pe cal-eternă,
un corp lungit pe aşternut de pernă,
părând un înger aţipind agale,
în cântec de trompete şi de tobe,
marcând un ritm domol, de imn funebru,
purtat, fiind, de cardinali în robe,
în straie amintind de Sfântul Petru.
Popi şi călugari, lâng-un tun vetust,
şi halebardieri în coif de-aramă,
păşesc, într-un costum de mare gală…
iar clopotele sună-n campanile,
marcând accentul marşului funebru:
Italia iubeşte-un pic de dramă!

Rendered in Romanian by Constantin ROMAN
© 2013, Copyright Constantin ROMAN, London

Giuseppe Joacchino BELLI (1791-1863) (Poet Italian de expresie Trasteverină)

Giuseppe Joacchino BELLI (1791-1863) (Poet Italian de expresie Trasteverină)

SHORT BIO NOTE: BELLI is mainly remembered for his vivid popular poetry in the Roman dialect. He produced some 2,279 sonnets that form an invaluable document of the 19th century’s papal Rome and the life of its common people. They were mainly composed in the period 1830–1839. Belli kept them largely hidden, apart from his famous recitals before friends such as Charles Augustin Sainte-Beuve and Nikolai Gogol and, just before his death, asked his friend Monsignor Vincenzo Tizzani to burn them. Fortunately, the prelate gave them back to Ciro Belli, who when first publishing a selection of them in 1866, severely edited in order not to offend the taste of the time.
The most striking characteristics of Belli’s sonnets are the overwhelming humour and the sharp, relentless capability of satirization of both common life and the clerical world that oppressed it. Some of the sonnets, moreover, show a decided degree of eroticism. Although replete with denunciations of the corruption of the world of the Roman Church, and of the 19th century Rome in general, Belli’s poems has been defined as “never impious”. His verse is frequently obscene, reflecting the exuberant vulgarity and acerbic intuitions of the local world whose language he employed, but is always phrased with an acute technical mastery of rhythm within the difficult formal structures of the Petrarchan sonnet, and by a sense of realism which was rarely matched in the poetical production of Europe, until the emergence of raw realism with Émile Zola and James Joyce.
A selection of Belli’s sonnets were translated into English by Anthony Burgess, who employed a rough slang tinged with Lancastrian as a stand-in for Belli’s Roman dialect. These translations appear in the novel ABBA ABBA, which deals with a fictional encounter between Belli and John Keats. Belli’s works have also been translated by the poet Harold Norse.
Among other English translators of Belli’s work are Peter Nicholas Dale, William Carlos Williams, and Eleonore Clark.

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