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Entries Tagged as '“Poetry in Translation”'

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

December 24th, 2012 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (CLIII): Remco CAMPERT (b. 1929, The Hague, The Netherlands) – “To Poetry”, “ODĂ POEZIEI” · International Media, Poetry, Translations

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)

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Poetry in Translation (CLII): Jan CAMPERT (1902 – 1943), The Netherlands – “Song of the Eighteen Dead”, (fragment), “Prohod la douăzeci de morţi”

December 24th, 2012 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (CLII): Jan CAMPERT (1902 – 1943), The Netherlands – “Song of the Eighteen Dead”, (fragment), “Prohod la douăzeci de morţi” · PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

Jan Campert (1902-1943, Netherlands
The Song of the Eigtheen Dead
A cell is but six feet long
and hardly six feet wide,
yet smaller is the patch of ground,
that I now do not yet know,
but where I nameless come to lie,
my comrades all and one,
we eighteen were in number then,
none shall the evening see come.

Prohod la douăzeci de morţi
În temniţa ce m-au închis
de-abea mă pot mişca,
toţi în picioare-nghesuiţi,
încât nu ştiu cum voi putea,
nevolnic să imi fac culcuş,
pe umeda podea.
Noi douăzeci eram atunci,
dar seara nimenea.
(Rendered in Romanian by Constantin ROMAN, London
© 2012, Copyright Constantin ROMAN)

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Poetry in Translation (CL): Sándor Petőfi (1823-1849), Hungary, “Fa Leszek ”, “I’ll be a tree”, “De-aşi fi un pom”

November 28th, 2012 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (CL): Sándor Petőfi (1823-1849), Hungary, “Fa Leszek ”, “I’ll be a tree”, “De-aşi fi un pom” · International Media, Poetry, quotations, Translations

Fa leszek, ha fának vagy virága.
Ha harmat vagy: én virág leszek.
Harmat leszek, ha te napsugár vagy…
Csak, hogy lényink egyesüljenek.

I’ll be a tree, if you are its flower,
Or a flower, if you are the dew-
I’ll be the dew, if you are the sunbeam,
Only to be united with you.

Un pom aşi fi, dac-ai fi floarea lui,
Sau o floare, dac-ai fi roua.
Aşi fi rouă, dacă soare vei fi,
Să ne ne iubim în fiecare zi.

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

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Poetry in Translation (CXLVII): Aleš ŠTEGER (b. 1973), SLOVENIA, “Europe”, “ Europa”

November 23rd, 2012 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (CXLVII): Aleš ŠTEGER (b. 1973), SLOVENIA, “Europe”, “ Europa” · International Media, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

“Still you think you’ll give the lie to all of us.
When I close my tired eyes, you appear
In the form of a hairy fat woman who gives birth while snoring
And of the man in the dark beside her secretly masturbating,
Thinking about America.”
Şi totuşi te încăpăţânezi să ne vinzi minciuna ta.
De câte ori închid pleoapele ochilor mei obosiţi, tu reapari
Ca fantoma unei codoaşe grase si păroase, fătând în timpul somnului,
În timp ce lângă ea, culcat în întuneric, un bărbat se masturbează pe furiş,
Visând despre America.

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

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Poetry in Translation (CXLVI): Sergiu MANDINESCU (1926-1964), ROMANIA, “Prison Warder”, “ Suflet de călău”

November 22nd, 2012 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (CXLVI): Sergiu MANDINESCU (1926-1964), ROMANIA, “Prison Warder”, “ Suflet de călău” · PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

A muffled night
a bottomless abyss
a peacock’s cry
that never goes amiss.
Great panthers watching in the night
and tigers ready for the pounce,
the pythons flawlessly advance
a path so trite.
The shadow’s silence so profound
fills to the brim the darkest mind –
a jungle full of beasts of any kind,
but human soul is nowhere to be found!

(Rendered in English, from the Romanian original,
by Constantin ROMAN, London,
© 2012, Copyright Constantin ROMAN)

Sergiu MANDINESCU (1926-1964) – Biographical Note:

Sergiu Mandinescu was a son of Bucovina, who died prematurely at the age of 38, of which 14 years, between 1949 and 1963, were spent in the harshest Communist prisons: Jilava, Pitesti, Gherla, Aiud and more.
He died within one year of being released from prison, having barely had time to put pen to paper – his own poems that he memorized in the darkest prison cells.
Sergiu was only 23 years of age when he was imprisoned by the Communists and was discharged at the age of 37, only to pass away a year later.

Even after the demise of Ceausescu, 25 years after Mandinescu’s death, Romania was not ready to confront the demons of its past, as the “post-Communist” publishing houses still blackballed the publications of the poet’s verse. However, a handful of these appeared in print, first, before 1989, through the effort of the Romanian Diaspora and of late, in Romania, on the Internet and in some provincial literary magazines.
Considering the aforesaid, one can reasonably state, without fear of contradiction, that the conspiracy of silence is still alive and well in the Carpathian lands, in the guise of a pre programmed amnesia, through the good offices of overt and covert gremlins, perched in lucrative sinecures: the latter are at work, full time, like termites, until the whole shebang would implode: never too soon!

Addendum:
There seems to be no portrait extant of Sergiu Mandinescu, even though, given the assiduous efforts of the Romanian secret services, there ought to be some prison photos when he was indicted and therefore available in the late poet’s Securitate files.

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Poetry in Translation (CXLV): Elizabeta BAKOVSKA (b.1969) Macedonia, “How we speak”, “Cum vorbim”

November 16th, 2012 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (CXLV): Elizabeta BAKOVSKA (b.1969) Macedonia, “How we speak”, “Cum vorbim” · International Media, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

Do you remember me
your hand asks me.
Your eyes are a dry desert sky.
On my chest I have a hole,
when it rains
my heart is wet.
I comfort you
with muscle contractions
one small,
two strong,
one small.
Save our souls
from this ship that endlessly sinks.
We keep quiet,
for we are bad translators
of our love.

Mai îţi aminteşti de mine,
mă întreabă mâna mea.
Ochii tăi reflectă cerul pustiului.
În piept am o gaură,
iar când plouă
inima se înneacă.
Te consolez
cu o zvâcnire de muşchi:
una uşoară, doua puternice
si iarăşi una uşoară.
Doamne, salvează sufletele noastre
din această barcă ce se scufundă.
Stăm liniştiţi,
căci tălmăcim greşit
dragostea noastră.

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

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Poetry in Translation (CXLIV): José Régio (1901-1969) PORTUGAL, “Black Chant”, “Cântec negru”, “Cântico negro”,

November 12th, 2012 · 1 Comment · International Media, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations, Uncategorized

ah! don’t give me sympathetic intentions!
don’t asks me for definitions!
don’t tell me: “come this way”!
my life is a whirlwind that broke loose,
it’s a wave that rose.
it’s one more atom that ignited…
I don’t know which way I’ll go,
I don’t know where I’m going to,
– I know I’m not going that way!

ah! şi nu-mi oferi bunele tale intenţii!
nu-mi cere înţelesuri!
nu-mi spune: “vino aici”!
viaţa mea este un vârtej necontrolat
e un val care se înalţă
e un atom în plus care face explozie
nici nu ştiu în ce direcţie voi sfârşi
nici nu ştiu unde merg,
– ştiu doar că nu merg acolo!

Ah, que ninguém me dê piedosas intenções!
Ninguém me peça definições!
Ninguém me diga: “vem por aqui”!
A minha vida é um vendaval que se soltou.
É uma onda que se alevantou.
É um átomo a mais que se animou…
Não sei por onde vou,
Não sei para onde vou
– Sei que não vou por aí!

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Poetry in Translation (CXLIII): Parid TEFERICI (b. 1972, Albania), “Index”, “Direcţie”

November 11th, 2012 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (CXLIII): Parid TEFERICI (b. 1972, Albania), “Index”, “Direcţie” · Diaspora, International Media, Poetry, quotations, Translations

INDEX
Farid TEFERICI (b. 1972, Albania)

What point is there in my showing you ‘mongst the crowds
What sort of person I am,
Or the turn in the road you must take to find
My house, where the quince tree is aging in the yard?
Index fingers are the roots that feed
That trunk which offers no leaves, nor fruit, nor shade.
[Index, from the volume Meqenëse sytë, Tirana: Aleph 2003, p. 87. Translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]

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

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Poetry in Translation (CXLII): Parid TEFERICI (b. 1972, Albania), “In a Country as Small as This One”, “O ţară atât de mică”

November 10th, 2012 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (CXLII): Parid TEFERICI (b. 1972, Albania), “In a Country as Small as This One”, “O ţară atât de mică” · International Media, Poetry, Translations

The Albanian Leviathan is a sardine. The sitting rooms where men gather are tins of sardines. Truth, in order to find space there, has to be folded in two and then folded again.
In a country as small as this, so small that you could easily draw it on a one-to-one scale on this packet of cigarettes, you don’t know where and how to sit or support yourself: on the throat of your neighbour, or on the buttocks of the other fellow’s wife.
Seated, huddled around the coffee table, how can you greet anyone without jabbing someone else with your elbow? How can you pay a compliment without deafening someone?
We can see one another in our spoons, and we are warped.

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Poetry in Translation (CXLI): Parid TEFERICI (b. 1972, Albania), “ The Poet”, “Poetul”

November 10th, 2012 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (CXLI): Parid TEFERICI (b. 1972, Albania), “ The Poet”, “Poetul” · International Media, Poetry, quotations, Translations

POETUL
Parid TEFERICI (b. 1972, Albania)
Mă împuşcă acolo unde nu sunt.
Se întâmplă chiar să-mi ridice braţul la masă
Să afle dacă nu mă ascund acolo.
Se întâmplă să lase să treacă
Omul care se grăbeşte să mă găsească
Se întâmplă chiar să imi dea foc
Ca să mă dibuie mai bine în întuneric.
Şi totuşi, deşi stau cu spatele la zid
Nu mă împuşcă.

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

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