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Poetry in Translation (CLXI): Lucian BLAGA (1895 – 1961), “Lettre” (Scrisoare)

January 26th, 2013 · PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

Pietà

Pietà

Poetry in Translation (CLXI): Lucian BLAGA (1895 – 1961), “Lettre” (Scrisoare)

LETTRE (Scrisoare)
Lucian BLAGA (1895 – 1961)

Même à présent je ne t’aurais écrit ces lignes,
mais les coqs ont chanté trios fois dans la nuit
et j’ai du m’écrier:
Dieu, Dieu, qui ai-je renié?

Je suis plus vieux que toi, ma mère,
mais toujours celui que tu connais:
les épaules un peu voutés
et penché sur les questions des hommes.
Je ne sais toujours pas pourquoi tu m’as fait voir le jour.
Est-ce seulement pour marcher à travers les choses
et leur faire justice en leur disant
laquelle est la plus raisonable et laquelle la plus belle?
La main s’arrète: c’est bien peu.
La voix se voile: c’est bien peu.
Pourquoi m’as-tu fait voir le jour, ma mère?
pourquoi me l’as-tu fait voir?

Mon corps tombe à tes genoux
lourd, comme un oiseau mort.

En Français par Constantin ROMAN
Bucarest 1967, Londres, 2013
© 2013, Copyright Constantin ROMAN

Short Biographical Note:
Blaga’s works remain highly mystical, close to the primeval myth and to his village roots and sadly very little translated in foreign languages.
Blaga was born the son of an Orthodox priest in a small village of Transylvania. By the time of his maturity his contribution was recognised by being elected a Fellow of the Romanian Academy, just before the Second World War. With the advent of Communism in Romania the last two decades of his life were spent in obscurity, interspersed with time in the Communist prisons, reduced to silence and physical incapacity.
Between 1943 and 1946 Blaga published some of his major philosophical works; the “Trilogy of Knowledge,” “The Trilogy of Culture” and the “Trilogy of Values”. Two further titles – the “Cosmogonic Trilogy” and the “Pragmatic Trilogy” respectively had their publication barred by the advent of the Marxist dictatorship. The philosopher is made to renounce, his ideas, under duress. He is dismissed from his Chair of Philosophy at the University of Cluj and compelled to take up a job as librarian. But soon he is forced to renounce even this modest position, for he spends more and more frequent spells in jail, as a political prisoner.
Lucian Blaga dies in 1961, only a few years after he is released from prison.

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Poetry in Translation (CLX): Lucian BLAGA (1922 – 1985), “Dernier mot” (Ultimul cuvânt)

January 26th, 2013 · PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations, Uncategorized

Lucian-Blaga-Aforisme

Poetry in Translation (CLX): Lucian BLAGA (1922 – 1985), “Dernier mot” (Ultimul cuvânt)

DERNIER MOT (Ultimul cuvânt)
Lucian BLAGA (1922-1985)

Pèlerin d’étoiles,
j’ai perdu
l’antique zodiaque.
La vie, avec le sang et les contes
M’ont glissé entre les mains.
Qui me dirige sur l’eau?
Qui me passe à travers les flammes?
Contre les oiseaux, qui me protège?

Les routes m’ont chassé.
La terre de nulle part
Ne m’a appelé.
Je suis maudit!

Avec le chien et les flèches qui me restent
Je m’enterre,
à tes racines je m’enterre,
Dieu, arbre maudit.

En Français par Constantin ROMAN
Bucarest 1963, Londres, 2013
© 2013, Copyright Constantin ROMAN

Lancram, Trasylvania,
Lucian Blaga Memorial House

Lancram, Trasylvania,
Lucian Blaga Memorial House

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE:
Lucian Blaga
(1895, b. Lancram, Transylvania, – d. Lancram, 1961),
Poet, Academic, Philospher, Historian, Political Prisoner

If Cioran is considered the contemporary extension of Nietsche, and his thoughts written in French are translated in many languages, Lucian’s Blaga’s works remain highly mystical, close to the primeval myth and to his village roots and, sadly, very little translated in foreign languages.
Like Cioran, Blaga was born the son of an Orthodox priest in a small village of Transylvania at the time when this province was still part of the Habsburg empire. By the time of his maturity his contribution to Phylosophy and poetry was recognised by being elected a Fellow of the Romanian Academy, just before the Second World War. With the advent of Communism in Romania the last two decades of his life were spent in obscurity, interspersed with time in the Communist prisons, reduced to silence and physical incapacity.

Between 1943 and 1946 Blaga published some of his major philosophical works; the “Trilogy of Knowledge,” “The Trilogy of Culture” and the “Trilogy of Values”. Two further titles – the “Cosmogonic Trilogy” and the “Pragmatic Trilogy” respectively had their publication barred by the advent of the Marxist dictatorship. The philosopher is made to renounce, his ideas, under duress. He is dismissed from his Chair of Philosophy at the University of Cluj and compelled to take up a job as librarian. But soon he is forced to renounce even this modest position, for he spends more and more frequent spells in jail, as a political prisoner.
Lucian Blaga dies in 1961, only a few years after he is released from prison.
(Extract from “Voices and Shadows of the Carpathians”, by Constantin ROMAN)

Lucian Blaga's Memorial in his native Transylvanian village

Lucian Blaga’s Memorial in his native Transylvanian village

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Poetry in Translation (CLIX): Ion VINEA (1895 – 1964), “Vieille chanson” (Cântec vechi)

January 25th, 2013 · PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

Ion Vinea, (1895  1964), Romanian Poet

Ion Vinea, (1895 1964), Romanian Poet

VIEILLE CHANSON
(Cântec vechi)
Ion VINEA (1895 – 1964)

J’ai peur des derniers regards,
Des adieux faits en partant,
Des signes de main et de mouchoir
Au son des pas s’étiolant.

J’ai peur, du silence, du néant,
Du nom à l’appel sans echo,
Des nuits au répis angoissant
J’ai peur des regrets à huis clos.

Du rêve au retour illusoire,
De l’ombre touchant le parvis,
J’ai peur de toute cette histoire
Frolant un perdu paradis.

Version Française par:
Constantin Roman, Londres,
© 2013, Copyright Constantin ROMAN

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“Părintele Arsenie Boca şi Nae Ionescu – Vedere în duh şi viziune filozofică” de Isabela Vasiliu-Scraba

January 18th, 2013 · OPINION, PEOPLE

Isabela VASILIU-SCRABA

Isabela VASILIU-SCRABA

Părintele Arsenie Boca şi Nae Ionescu – Vedere în duh şi viziune filozofică

Isabela Vasiliu-Scraba

(Sursa http://isabelavs.blogspot.com)

Motto:
“Când omul uită să se întrebe în ce parte stă izvorul mântuirii lui, se ofilesc câmpurile şi se întristează, sterpe, păsările. Ce admirabil simbol al solidarităţii omului cu întreg Cosmosul”, M. Eliade, Un amănunt din Parsifal, 1938.

Intr-una din zilele lui octombrie 1949, Parintele Arsenie Boca vorbea la Mânăstirea Prislop de existenţa conştiinţei religioase care poate să nu se manifeste dacă forţa conştiinţei eului “o ţine în nemişcare” (v. Părintele Arsenie Boca, “Cuvinte vii”, Deva, 2006, p.167). Cu ani în urmă, profesorul de metafizică Nae Ionescu (audiat de Boca pe când era student la Belle Arte) definise spiritualitatea occidentală prin autonomia gândirii omului ce se consideră pe sine centrul lumii (v. Isabela Vasiliu-Scraba, Metafizica lui Nae Ionescu, în unica şi în dubla ei înfăţişare, Slobozia, Ed. Star Tipp, 2000, http://www.isabelavs.go.ro/Nae_Ionescu/CAP_IV.html ).

Cumva asemănător diferenţiase acum două conştiinţe paralele fostul stareţ de la Sâmbăta de Sus. Dar filozoful observase în plus că autonomia gândirii are drept consecinţă disoluţia spiritului metafizic. După Nae Ionescu, latinitatea orientală n-ar participa la spiritualitatea occidentală pentru că are un plus de smerenie care-i face pe latinii din estul Europei să nu plaseze omul în centrul lumii. Aceasta ar duce la o semnificativă deosebire dintre Orientul şi Occidentul european, în cadrul aceleiaşi culturi ce-şi are la bază miracolul grec şi creştinismul.

Interesantă însă ne pare nu atât asemănarea dintre cele două gânduri, a unui faimos filozof şi a unui stareţ înduhovnicit, cât mai ales deosebirea. Fiindcă varianta existenţială în care omul se consideră centrul lumii şi cea în care se vădeşte smerenia creaturii în faţa atotputerniciei Domnului nostru Iisus, în opinia stareţului de la M-rea Prislop, n-ar fi independente una de alta. Între conştiinţa eului care reduce lumea la eul cunoscător şi conştiinţa religioasă ar fi chiar un război nevăzut. Intr-un fel, cele două spiritualităţi (de tip oriental şi de tip occidental) ar fi îngemănate în aceeaşi fiinţă omenească, în care, “cu sau fără voia ei”, se dă o luptă între conştiinţa trufaşă şi conştiinţa smerită (v. Părintele Arsenie Boca, Războiul nevăzut, 27 oct. 1949, în vol., “Cuvinte vii”, Deva, 2008, p.167).

Rev. Arsenie Boca (martyred in Nov 1989): "

Rev. Arsenie Boca (martyred in Nov 1989): “


Pe 2 noiembrie 1949, Părintele Arsenie Boca evidenţiază într-o altă predică “nemulţumirea lui Iisus” faţă de păcatele minţii: făţărnicia, prejudecata şi viclenia, toate trei definind fariseismul.
Prejudecata prin care scrierile Părintelui Arsenie, “opere teologice fundamentale” (v.pr. Nicolae Streza, Mărturii despre Părintele Arsenie Boca, Ed. Credinţa strămoşească, 2009, p.269), sînt înadins ignorate de cercurile teologilor de azi am remarcat-o la începutul anului 2012, când în pangarul Patriarhiei nu se găsea în luna ianuarie nici una din cărţile acestui călugăr isihast, pe care Mircea Eliade (care scria că-l mai văzuse în două rânduri înainte de plecarea în Anglia), vroia să-l întrebe în iulie 1942 “ca pe un mare sfânt” cum s-a împăcat cu Istoria, cum poate rămâne în afară de Timp cu tancurile şi artileria alături (v. M. Eliade, Noaptea de Sânziene, vol. II, Bucureşti, Jurnalul naţional, 2010, p. 177-178).
Făţărnicia post-comunistă a celor care se prefac a-l preţui pe Sfântul Ardealului persecutat fără-ncetare în comunism o sesizasem încă din anul Centenarului naşterii Părintelui Arsenie Boca (1910-28 nov.1989) când a trebuit sa ajung la Mânăstirea Brâncoveanu de la Sâmbăta de Sus ca să aflu de la un membru al Comisiei de canonizare că “despre sfinţi, despre o personalitate ca a Părintelui Arsenie Boca nu ne interesează câte ore, de ce şi unde a fost închis” (v. Isabela Vasiliu-Scraba, Moartea martirică a Părintelui Arsenie Boca, un adevăr ascuns la Centenarul sărbătorit la M-rea Brâncoveanu, în rev “Argeş”, nr.10/2010; http://www.isabelavs.go.ro/Articole/IVSbisericaDraganescu4.htm ).
Dar însăşi neinspirata idee de la Mânăstirea din satul Săndica (2007) de a reproduce în format mare unele din picturile Părintelui Arsenie Boca are la bază nu atât făţarnica preţuire a lor, cât oarece vicleşug spre a atrage acolo credincioşii mai naivi. Făţarnice apar şi laudele dintr-un articol din “Ziarul lumina” (2008) despre sculptura iconostasului Bisericii Elefterie cel nou din Bucureşti în măsura în care nu se aminteşte nimic despre impresionanta frescă din altar înfăţişând-o pe Maica Domnului cu Iisus, “ocolită” şi în filmările oficiale din interiorul frumoasei Biserici în care Părintele Arsenie Boca l-a pictat la începutul deceniului şase pe copilul Iisus în zeghe de puşcăriaş (v. Isabela Vasiliu-Scraba, Martirii închisorilor în viziunea lui Mircea Eliade şi a Părintelui Arsenie Boca, http://www.isabelavs.go.ro/Articole/IVSsemnMiorita12bis.htm ).
Pe internet, oarece viclenie apare în vreo trei pagini web dedicate Părintelui Arsenie Boca (site-uri din Bucureşti, Cluj şi Arad) unde biografia celui martirizat arată de ca şi cum ar fi fost concepută de comun acord cu securiştii care l-au schingiuit la 79 de ani si vor să-şi ascundă fapta, terorizînd maicile de la Sinaia să nu spună nicicând adevărul asupra morţii Părintelui. (Născut cu un an înaintea Părintelui Arsenie Boca, pr. Dimitrie Bejan spunea pe 17 XII 1993 într-un interviu înregistrat că securiştii l-au bătut “la poartă şi în casă” până în decembrie 1989 când i-au spus că de-acum încolo “e liber”, v. video Părintele D. Bejan, Amintiri din trecut postat de andreizgo)
Cât despre făţărnicie, ce poate fi mai semnificativ decât înmulţirea discursurilor “oficiale” despre Părintele Arsenie Boca (la M-rea Brâncoveanu de la Sâmbăta de Sus, la Brad, sau chiar la resfinţirea pe 29 sept. 2012 Bisericii din Drăgănescu şi pe 8 dec. 2012 la Paris, la Saint Suplice) în condiţiile în care trimişii Patriarhiei se fac a nu fi aflat de moartea martirică a călugărului iconar alături de care nu se sfiesc a se trece autori pe cotorul unei cărţi extrem de voluminoase şi de interesantă în partea unde sînt publicate pagini din manuscrisele de la Sinaia: Părintele Arsenie: Omul îmbrăcat în haină de in si Ingerul cu cădelniţa de aur (Deva, 2008).
Ştiind de toate câte au fost şi câte vor mai fi, Iisus ar fi dat “pentru toate veacurile” (scrie Părintele Arsenie Boca) pedeapsă fariseilor: “să răspundă de sângele prorocilor ce s-a vărsat de la începutul lumii până la ei” (v. Părintele Arsenie Boca, Prislop, 2 nov. 1949, în vol. “Cuvinte vii”, Deva, 2006, p.178).
In articolul meu “Miracolul Bisericii de la Drăgănescu şi o profeţie a Părintelui Arsenie Boca” (v. rev. “Oglinda literară”, Anul X, nr.114, iunie 2011, p.7003-7004), observasem cum aceasta biserică se singularizează nu numai prin prorocirea conţinută de fresca din absida altarului “povestind” martiriul cuviosului Ştefan cel nou, trecut în lumea de dincolo pe 28 noiembrie (cum avea sa treaca si Parintele Arsenie Boca în 1989) ci şi printr-o serie de întâmplări pe care le-am putea numi de-a dreptul miraculoase. Primul miracol este însuşi faptul că a fost pictată de Părintele Arsenie Boca. Apoi că a apucat să fie vizitată de teologul profesor Nichifor Crainic (1889-1972) care i-a „pecetluit” valoarea, comunicând impresiile sale călugărului iconar care odinioară reînviase „cu viata si cu propăvăduirea sa duhul Filocaliei în viaţa religioasă a poporului nostru” (prof. D. Stăniloaie, in vol.III al Filocaliei, 1947). Patriarhului Justinian Marina îi reuşise în 1950 mutarea în cadrul Patriarhiei a Comisiei de pictură bisericească de la Ministerul Cultelor, numit de el “Securitatea popilor”. Probabil că fără această trecere n-am fi avut azi nici frescele religioase şi mozaicurile Olgăi Greceanu de la Manăstirea Antim, nici “predicile vii” (apud. Nichifor Crainic) pictate pe zidurile bisericii de la Drăgănescu de fostul stareţ al Mânăstirii Prislop (http://www.isabelavs.go.ro/Articole/IVSbisericaDraganescu4.htm ). În al doilea rând miraculoasă este însăşi supravieţuirea monumentului de artă pe care-l reprezintă micuţa biserică aflată la vreo 30 de km de Bucureşti. E suficient să ne gândim că ea se află pe malul lacului de la Mihăileşti, unde Ceauşescu vroia să construiască un port, neapărat în locul bisericii. Si cum Părintele Arsenie nu putea fi de acord cu aşa ceva, academiciana cu şcoala pe puncte (cum mai sînt si alţi academicieni chiar din ziua de azi) nu s-a sfiit să-l pălmuiască în mijlocul bisericii în sfânta zi de Paşte a anului 1989. Înverşunarea lor împotriva călugărului iconar nu s-a stins până nu l-au condamnat la o moarte martirică (v. Isabela Vasiliu-Scraba, Moartea martirică a Părintelui Arsenie Boca, un adevăr ascuns la Centenarul sărbătorit la Sâmbăta de Sus).

În al treilea rând, ca o minune apare chiar supravieţuirea picturii Bisericii executată de două ori de Părintele Arsenie Boca din 1968 şi până în 1989, în condiţiile în care fresca pictată de el în Biserica de la Bogata Olteană a fost îndepărtată nu prin văruire, ci prin lovituri de ciocan, după ce Părintele Arsenie Boca a fost (a cine ştie câta oară) arestat de Securitate în 1963.

Biserica din Bogata Olteana - Judecata de Apoi

Biserica din Bogata Olteana – Judecata de Apoi

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They came by Orient Express – Cameos of Times Past by Constantin ROMAN (I)

January 13th, 2013 · Books, Diaspora, OPINION, PEOPLE, quotations, Reviews, Translations

They came by Orient Express

They came by Orient Express

They came by Orient Express – Cameos of Times Past by Constantin ROMAN (I)

Lady Elizabeth Charlotte Lucy Asquith (Princess Antoine Bibesco)
(26 February 1897, England – 6 April 1945, Romania)
Essayist, poet, honorary Romanian, spouse of Prince Antoine Bibesco and daughter of the British Prime Minister Herbert Asquith

Elizabeth Asquith by Augustus John

Elizabeth Asquith by Augustus John

Portrait of Elizabeth Asquith by Augustus John (1924)
In the second portrait by Augustus John, Elizabeth, (titled “Princess Antoine Bibesco”) is seen portrayed here slightly weary and melancholic, her eyes averted just enough to suggest a break in her former self-confidence. She wears a mantilla given to her father by the Queen of Portugal and holds in her hand one of her own books. When shown at the Royal Academy summer exhibition in 1924, Mary Chamot, writing in Country Life, said of this painting that it had the force to make every other picture in the room look insipid, so dazzling is the contrast between the mysterious darkness of her eyes and hair and the shimmering brilliance of the white lace she wears over her head.

Antoine Bibesco about his wife Elizabeth Asquith:
Dearest Margot, Elizabeth visits a hospital three times a week, with the result that the lame walk, the blind see, and the dumb would speak if they could get a word in edgeways.
(Antoine Bibesco to his mother-in-law Margot Asquith, when asked why his wife didn’t do more good works, such as visiting a hospitals)

Elizabeth Bowen about Elizabeth Asquith:
Princess Bibesco delighted in a semi-ideal world – a world which, though having a counterpart in her experience, was to a great extent brought into being by her own temperament and, one might say, flair.

Marcel Proust about Elizabeth Asquith:
Miss Asquith, who was probably unsurpassed in intelligence by any of her contemporaries … looked like a lovely figure in an Italian fresco.

Virginia Wolf about Elizabeth Asquith:
She is pasty and podgy, with the eyes of a currant bun, suddenly protruding with animation.

Endurance:
Endurance is frequently a form of indecision.
(Elisabeth Asquith)

Farewell:
It is never any good dwelling on goodbyes.
(Elisabeth Asquith)

Generosity:
Blessed are those who can give without remembering and take without forgetting.
(Elisabeth Asquith)

Irony:
Irony is the hygiene of the mind.
(Elisabeth Asquith)

Love:
I have made a great discovery. What I love belongs to me. Not the chairs and tables in my house, but the masterpieces of the world. It is only a question of loving them enough. (Elisabeth Asquith)

Opportunity:
It is sometimes the man who opens the door who is the last to enter the room.
(Elisabeth Asquith)

Parting:
It is not the being together that it prolongs, it is the parting.
(Elisabeth Asquith)

Perception:
To others we are not ourselves but a performer in their lives cast for a part we do not even know we are playing.
(Elisabeth Asquith)

Priscilla Bibesco, 1937, by Howard Coster (NPG)

Priscilla Bibesco, 1937, by Howard Coster (NPG)

Priscilla Bibesco (Mrs. Michael Padev) (Photographed by Howard Coster, 1937, NPGx2953);
She did not like her father and kept quiet about having Marcel Proust as godfather

BIOGRAPHY:
On seeing the inevitability of his daughter Elizabeth marrying into a Romanian family, the British Prime Minister Herbert Asquith, 1st Earl of Oxford, (1852-1928) inquired cautiously of his future son-in-law:

It seems that you have considerable estates in Romania?

to which the young diplomat, Prince Antoine Bibesco (1878-1952) reputedly answered:

It takes the Orient Express one day to pass through me.

It must have taken the future English bride infinitely longer to get used to her picturesque, yet desperately primitive, adopted country. The couple got married, in spite of the many differences that separated them – Antoine being Elizabeth’s senior by 19 years and Elizabeth herself still being rather bruised from an emotional relationship with a previous English suitor. In the event it was quite understandable that the Asquith parents, while finding the Romanian prospect quite charming, would still have preferred their daughter to marry an Englishman of the best type. Nevertheless, the wedding to the Romanian diplomat, Prince Antoine Bibesco, took place in London’s fashionable St. Margaret’s church Westminster, in April 1919. It was a time when the Romanian nobility married frequently into French, German or Italian aristocratic families. The Bibesco-Asquith wedding was London’s wedding of the year, with the great and the good attending, from Queen Mary to George Bernard Shaw.

Herbert Asquith, the father of the bride, is remembered as being the Liberal Prime Minister (1908 – 1916) who kissed hands with King Edward VII, on foreign soil, when the latter was convalescing in Biarritz with his mistress, Mrs. Keppel. In 1910 Herbert Asquith blocked the Women’s Suffrage Bill and the following year he limited the power of the House of Lords to veto the Bills passed by the House of Commons. As British prime minister during the first two years of the Great European War, Asquith would also be remembered for the debacle of British troops at the battle of Ypres. Little wonder that Asquith’s wife, the outspoken Margot, so intensely disliked Lord Kitchener, Commander of the British Army during WWI, of whom she said that he was:

not a great man, but at least he was a great poster!

Elizabeth inherited her mother Margot’s Scottish wit, as the above aphorisms demonstrate. Margot (1864-1945) was born the daughter of Sir Charles Tennant, MP in Peebleshire.

Lady Elizabeth Asquith, Princess Bibesco, was not the first English woman to cross this great divide between East and West: at the beginning of the 20th century Romania was still perceived in Britain as a faraway country with all the trappings of exoticism, although Britain had an empire well beyond. Indeed, some twenty years before Elizabeth Asquith, Princess Marie of Great Britain was married off to the heir to the Romanian throne, Prince Ferdinand of Hohenzollern. After her marriage, Marie was close to the Bibescos for many years.

Sacheverell Sitwell and Patrick Leigh Fermor, to mention just two British writers who visited Eastern Europe after WWI, described the Romania of Elizabeth Asquith: they experienced the same flattering treatment when they came to write a travel book about Romania, its hospitality and its cultural riches. Little wonder that Elizabeth and her family became attached to this country. There was yet another link between the Asquith family and Romania, as Elizabeth Bibesco’s sister-in-law, Anne Mary Celestine Asquith, the 2nd Countess of Oxford, was the daughter of Sir Michael Palairet, CMG, KCMG, (1882–1956), the British Minister to Bucharest, (1929–1935), under Carol II. During the troubled times of the Iron Guard, Elizabeth, who kept her literary and social salon in Bucharest, had the courage of a political statement by having as guests people of very different political, ethnic and religious persuasions. Like so many foreign-born wives of Romanian nationals she became an adoptive Romanian who helped project a positive view of her new home country abroad.

Prince Antoine Bibesco's private plane - s Savoya Marchetti 1937

Prince Antoine Bibesco’s private plane – s Savoya Marchetti 1937

This SM.83 was owned by Prince Bibesco of Romania in the late 1930s.

Quite a different facet of Elizabeth Bibesco is revealed in 1921, when aged 24 and only two years into her marriage to Antoine Bibesco she received a waspish letter, sent to her by the writer Katherine Mansfield (1888-1923), in which she is asked to refrain from writing love letters to Mansfield’s husband John Middleton Murry:

I am afraid you must stop writing these little love letters to my husband while he and I live together. It is one of those things which is not done in our world.You are very young. Won’t you ask your husband to explain to you the impossibility of such a situation.
Please don’t you have to make me write to you again. I do not like scolding people and I simply hate to teach them manners.

(Frank and Anita Kermode op.cit. 496)
.

Writer and Editor Middleton-Murray and his wife

Writer and Editor Middleton-Murray and his wife

At that time Murry (1889-1957) was 33, a socialist and pacifist, an influential literary critic, an Editor of the Athaeneum and friend of notable literary figures such as T.S. Eliot, D. H. Lawrence, and Virginia Woolf. The latter is reputed to have damned Myrry’s wife in the most uncharitable terms, after visiting her in her fhouse in old Church Street, Chelsea. Viginia Woolf portrays Katerine as ‘hard’, ‘shallow’ and ‘stinking like a civet cat’, enough, one should think at causing Murry to look elsewhere and encourage Elizabeth Asquith’s advances.

In spite of such utterings, Katherine Mansfield herself was an established writer, gaining praise for her recently published volume, ironically entitled Bliss (1920), while Elizabeth Asquith Bibesco was an aspiring writer. Ironically Miss Mansfield did not object to her socialist husband’s affair with an aristocrat, rather to the irritation of discovering these love letters while she and Murry lived under the same roof… Soon the field was clear as Mansfield had to be treated for tuberculosis in Switzerland and France and died two years later, having produced her most memorable work.

The Second World War, found Elizabeth and her husband looking after the Bibesco estate in Romania. However, their daughter Priscilla escaped to Turkey via the Balkans in an epic journey and eventually joined her grandmother Margot Asquith in London. By that time, Elizabeth’s health had deteriorated, and she died in April 1945. She is buried in the Bibesco family vault. Sixty years on, when Marthe Bibesco’s biographer, Christine Sutherland, visited Romania in the 1990s, the Bibesco family vault was in an advanced state of dilapidation: she urged the officials of the British embassy to take steps towards its repair (Christine Sutherland, personal communication).
Elizabeth Asquith’s personal correspondence is part of the archives of the Bodleian Library, Oxford (Shelfmarks: MSS. Eng. c. 6718-19, d. 3316, e. 3292).

Elizabeth’s husband, Prince Antoine Bibesco, left Romania after her death, just in time before the Communist takeover. In 1949, the British diarist James Lees-Milne, (1908-1997), who was always fascinated by encounters with living links of the past, was introduced to Antoine at the house of American artist Ethel Sands, an occasion in which he describes Bibesco in vivid colours:

He is oldish, with straight, thick grey hair. He is the man Proust loved and the widower of Elizabeth Asquith (daughter of the prime minister). Abounding in charm and I would guess the cause of havoc in many hearts of yore.

This portrait is corroborated by the erstwhile mother-in-law of Antoine, Margot Asquith, Countess of Oxford (1864-1945):

what a gentleman he is. None of my family are gentlemen like that: no breeding, you know?

This opinion reflected the refined face of Romania prior to WWII. Sadly, after the Soviet invasion of 1945, Romania sank in the Communist quagmire, when the society received such terminal blows that even sixty years on, by the beginning of the 21st century, it has difficulty recovering. The Bibescos, like all Romanian aristocrats, were co-lateral victims of this process.

Romania, Mogosoaia - Bibesco Family Vault

Romania, Mogosoaia – Bibesco Family Vault

The tomb of Elizabeth Asquith Bibesco, in the Bibesco family vault, at Mogosoaia,
http://romania.ibelgique.com/chat-brancoveanu.htm

Bibesco's family flat in l'Ile St Louis

Bibesco’s family flat in l’Ile St Louis

Antoine Bibesco died in 1951, in his flat, at 45 Quai Bourbon, on the northern tip of the Ile St Louis in Paris, in his apartment decorated with paintings by Vuillard – the same flat where Priscilla Bibeco died fifty years later.

Pss Marthe Bibesco in her flat in Quay Bourbon, Paris

Pss Marthe Bibesco in her flat in Quay Bourbon, Paris

NOTE:

The above abridged text is an extract from the Anthology:
Blouse Roumaine – the Unsung Voices of Romanian Women, by Constantin ROMAN, London 2006

http://www.blouseroumaine.com/

http://www.blouseroumaine.com

http://www.blouseroumaine.com

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Poetry in Translation (CLVIII): Remco CAMPERT (b. 1929, The Hague), “Lost Cause”, “Cauză pierdută”, “Verloren Partij”

December 30th, 2012 · International Media, Poetry, quotations, Translations

Poetry in Translation (CLVIII): Remco CAMPERT (b. 1929, The Hague), “Lost Cause”, “Cauză pierdută”, “Verloren Partij”

Remco Campert by Siegfried Woldhek

Remco Campert by Siegfried Woldhek

THE NETHELANDS – Remco CAMPERT (b. 1929, The Hague), “Lost Cause”, “Cauză pierdută”, “Verloren Partij”
From the volume: “Idreamt in the Cities at Night”

Lost Cause

In the city centre
Have it your own way I said
houses all around
Soon succumbing to the daily
Lack of care

Lost cause

Your face
As I once pictured it
No longer showed up anywhere

at night I stand on the canal bank
where the black water flows
and think not yet

9508742-amsterdam-canals-by-night

Cauză pierdută

În inima cetăţii
i-am spus urmează-ţi drumul
case de jur împrejur
prăbuşindu-se în curând
din lipsă de îngrijire

cauză pierdută

faţa ta
aşa cum mi-o închipuiam
nu s-a mai arătat nicăieri

noaptea stau la cheiul canalului
unde curge negura apelor
şi cuget nu încă

(Rendered in Romanian by Constantin ROMAN, London
© 2012, Copyright Constantin ROMAN)

Campert I Dreamed In The Cities At Night

Campert I Dreamed In The Cities At Night

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Poetry in Translation (CLVII): Marin SORESCU (1936 – 1996, Romania) – “Menu”, “Meniu”

December 26th, 2012 · Diaspora, International Media, PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations, Uncategorized

Poetry in Translation (CLVII): Marin SORESCU (1936 – 1996, Romania) – “Menu”, “Meniu”

Marin_Sorescu

Menu

For breakfast a thin buttered slice
Of life.
With it we take water which rises incessantly
(Last night it covered three-quarters of the globe}
And boil it sterile of microbes.

For lunch we eat well and substantially
Three courses of earth:
Black earth, loess and clay.

We don’t usually have a cooked dinner.
We take
Either a star with a bit of honey
Or if it isn’t finished
Some happiness (which in fact we keep
For Sundays)
And whatever else is left over.

(Rendered in English by Constantin ROMAN, London,
© 2012, Copyright Constantin ROMAN)

First published in:
Encounter, December 1972 –
“Three Poems by Marin Sorescu”
by Constantin Roman & Timothy J.L. Cribb. (Cambridge)

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Poetry in Translation (CLVI): Marin SORESCU (1936 – 1996, Romania) – “Translation”, “Traducere”

December 26th, 2012 · International Media, Poetry, quotations, Translations

Poetry in Translation (CLVI): Marin SORESCU (1936 – 1996, Romania) – “Translation”, “Traducere”

Colour blot

Translation
Marin Sorescu
(1936 – 1996)

I was sitting an exam
In a dead language
And I had to transIate myself
From man into ape.

I played it cool,
First translating a text
From a forest.

But the translation got harder
As I drew nearer to myself.
With some effort
I found, however, satisfactory equivalents
For nails and the hair on the feet.

Around the knees
I started to stammer.
Towards the heart my hand began to shake
And blotted the paper with light.

Still, I tried to patch it up
With the hair or the chest,
But utterly failed
At the soul.

(Rendered in English by Constantin ROMAN, London
© 2012, Copyright Constantin ROMAN)

First published in:
Encounter, December 1972
“Three Poems by Marin Sorescu”
by Constantin Roman & Timothy J.L. Cribb. (Cambridge)

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Poetry in Translation (CLV): Marin SORESCU (1936 – 1996, Romania) – “Passport”, “Paşaport”

December 26th, 2012 · Poetry, quotations, Translations

Poetry in Translation (CLV): Marin SORESCU (1936 – 1996, Romania) – “Passport”, “Paşaport”

Berlin-Iron-Curtain

Passport

To cross the border
Between the sunflower
And the moonflower
Between the alphabet
Of handwritten events
And printed events.

To be friend of all atoms
Which form the light
To sing with the atoms which sing
To cry
With the atoms which die
To enter into all the days of one’s life
Without restriction
No matter whether they fall on one side or the other
Of the word
Earth.

This passport
Is written in my bones
On my skull, femur, phalanges and spine
All arranged in a way
To make clear
My right to be man.

(Rendered in English by Constantin ROMAN, London
© 2012, Copyright Constantin ROMAN)

First published in:
Encounter, December 1972
“Three Poems by Marin Sorescu”
by Constantin Roman & Timothy J.L. Cribb. (Cambridge)

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Poetry in Translation (CLIII): Remco CAMPERT (b. 1929, The Hague, The Netherlands) – “To Poetry”, “ODĂ POEZIEI”

December 24th, 2012 · International Media, Poetry, Translations

Poetry in Translation (CLIII): Remco CAMPERT (b. 1929, The Hague, The Netherlands) – “To Poetry”, “ODĂ POEZIEI”

TO POETRY
Remco Campert (b.1929, The Hague)

Do you really mean to leave me, poetry
at three thirty in the afternoon
in the Rue du Four
while above me the sky closes down
in darkening tumult
and a street corner crashes into me
and I’ve lost count of all the people
well, you won’t get away with it
I hang on tight to the rail in bus 39
and decide in a giddy moment
I won’t put up with your dumping me
like a woman her aged lover
who no longer has any rights
later in the little park at Sèvres-Babylone
where a merry-go-round moans out its waltz
and under the trees there’s that black gent
with his grey stubble and cardboard suitcase
and that entire family that is homeless
and the American girl who is going to a concert in the evening
with that sweet fellow she just met
who read her Prévert’s poems
you’re here again
friends for good
don’t you ever forget it
dying is no excuse

In English by Donald Gardner

ODĂ POEZIEI
Remco CAMPER (n. 1929, Olanda,)

Tu, poezie, chiar vrei să mă laşi aşa in stradă,
la trei jumate după amiază
în Rue du Four
când cerul cade peste mine
într-un tumult de negură
iar colţul de stradă mă-nghionteşte
încât sunt pierdut în mulţimea asta
dacă-i aşa nu vei scăpa de mine
mă voi agăţa strâns de bara autobuzului 39
şi într-un moment de ameţeală voi decide
să nu mai înghit să mă alungi
aşa cum ar face o femeie iubitului ei bătrân
care s-ar afla dintr-odată fără nici un drept
mai târziu în părculeţul din Sèvres-Babylone
unde căluşeii circului se-nvârtesc într-un vals melancolic
şi unde, mereu, sub acelasi pom, se află un negru
cu barba căruntă şi cu geamantanul de carton presat
sau acea întreagă familie fără vre-un adăpost
şi încă tânăra Americancă ducându-se seara la concert
însoţită de bărbatul pe care de abea la întâlnit
şi care-i citeşte versuri de Prévert
aici vă regăsiţi
prieteni pe vecie
să nu uitaţi
moartea nu este o scuză.

(Rendered in Romanian by Constantin ROMAN, London
© 2012, Copyright Constantin ROMAN)

Remco Campert, Dutch Poet and Novelist

Note on Remco Campert:
Remco Wouter Campert was born in The Hague. A second generation poet of the same family, his father died in a Nazi concentration camp in 1943. Campert starred in theaters throughout the nation and beyond in a play he had created together with Jan Mulder (author and ex-football player). Their shows were based on both their literary works. 1995 was also the year he read his bestseller novel ‘Het leven is vurrukkulluk’ on the radio. Dutch people of younger generations will most likely associate his name with CaMu, the partnership between Remco Campert and Jan Mulder that wrote daily front-page columns for national newspaper ‘de Volkskrant’ from 1995 until 2006. These columns traditionally have been bundled into books titled CaMu ….: Het jaaroverzicht van Remco Campert en Jan Mulder at the end of each year. Remco is a prolific poet and novelist and a recipient of several honours.

Short note on the English translation:
Donald Gardner lives in Holland since 1978. He was originally a translator of Latin American literature and his published work includes an acclaimed translation of Octavio Paz’s long poem, The Sun Stone (Cosmos, York 1968), and Marcel Duchamp or the Castle of Purity (Cape, 1970). He also published translations of poems by Ernesto Cardenal and contributed to Con Cuba, an anthology of Cuban poetry (Cape Goliard, 1969). He translated the notoriously difficult novel Three Trapped Tigers by Guillermo Cabrera Infante, in collaboration with the author (Harper & Row, 1971).
He is the author of several collections of poetry, the most recent of which are: How to Get the Most out of Your Jet Lag (Ye Olde Font Shoppe, New Haven, 2001) and The Glittering Sea (Hearing Eye Press, 2006). He is known for his performances of his poetry – in Amsterdam, London and New York.

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