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Entries Tagged as 'poetry'

Poetry in Translation (CXXXIII): Paul Valéry, (1871, Sète, – 1945 Paris) – “Les Pas”, “Paşii tăi -”

October 12th, 2012 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (CXXXIII): Paul Valéry, (1871, Sète, – 1945 Paris) – “Les Pas”, “Paşii tăi -” · OPINION, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

Tes pas, enfants de mon silence,
Saintement, lentement placés,
Vers le lit de ma vigilance
Procèdent muets et glacés.

Paul Valéry
(1871, Sète – 1945, Paris)

Paşii tăi

Copii ai sufletului meu,
Sunt paşii tăi, mergând neobosit
Mereu prin ale soartei văi.
Cu trupul îngheţat şi trist.

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Poetry in Translation (CXIX): Joseba SARRIONANDIA (Vizcaya, Spain, b. 1958), Basque Poet – “Memoria fostului condamnat”

August 26th, 2012 · No Comments · International Media, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

“Memoria fostului condamnat”
Joseba SARRIONANDIA (n. 1958)

Memoria fostului condamnat
se întoarce mereu în închisoare.
El vede judecători, magistraţi
şi avocaţi, peste tot, pe stradă,
şi chiar dacă nu îl recunosc,
poliţiştii toţi îl privesc
mai îndelung decât oricine, pentru că
mersul lui este prea stânjenit
sau poate nu destul de stânjenit
În sufletul lui trăieşte mereu un condamnat.

versiune în limba Română
de Constantin ROMAN
Londra, 17 August 2012
© Copyright Constantin ROMAN, 2012

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Poetry in Translation (CXIX): Bernardo ATXAGA (Guipúzcoa, 1951), Basque Poet – “Vechiul Testament după Adam” (“Adan eta bizitza”, “La vida según Adán”)

August 26th, 2012 · No Comments · International Media, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

In prima iarnă după alungarea din Rai, Adam a zăcut la pat
Şi, alarmat fiind, tare, de simptomele lui (tuse, călduri, dureri de cap)
A izbucnit în hohote de plâns, aidoma Cuvioasei Magdalena, mult după vremurile aistea.
Şi aşa, Adam îi zise Evei, jelind: ‘nu ştiu care-i năpasta ce m-a trăsnit.
Vino lângă mine, muiere dragă, căci ceasul când îmi voi da duhul, simt că este aproape’.
(Varianta în limba Română, de Constantin ROMAN)

The first winter after leaving Paradise, Adam fell ill,
And, alarmed by his symptoms: coughing, fever, headache,
He burst into tears, just as Mary Magdalene would many years later.
Then, addressing Eve, he cried: ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
Come here, my love, I fear the hour of my death is near.’
(Translated by Margaret Jull Costa)

Gaixotu zen Adan paradisua utzi eta aurreneko neguan,
eta eztulka, buruko minez, hogeita hemeretziko sukarraz,
negarrari eman zion Magdalenak gerora emango bezala,
eta Evagana zuzenduz “hil egingo naiz” esan zion oihuka,
“gaizki nago, maite, hilurren, ez dakit zer gertatzen zaidan”.

Enfermó Adán el primer invierno después de su salida del paraíso
y asustado con los síntomas, la tos, la fiebre, el dolor de cabeza,
se echó a llorar igual que años más tarde lo haría María Magdalena,
y dirigiéndose a Eva, “no sé qué me ocurre” gritó, “tengo miedo”
“amor mío, ven aquí, creo que ha llegado la hora de mi muerte”.

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Poetry in Translation (CXVI): Angela Figuera AYMERICH (Bilbao, 1902 – Madrid, 1984), Basque Poet – “Corpul Iubitului” (Carne de mi amante – My lover’s flesh)

August 20th, 2012 · No Comments · International Media, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

Marmură-ncinsă, fierbinte
Pătrunsă în muşchi şi în fibră.
Corpul viril al iubitului
Zvâcneşte-ncordat în fiinţă.

Suav îmi apare în braţe
Aprins de a mea mângâiere.
Dulce îi este sărutul
Un fruct ce-am muşcat însetată.

Corpul iubitului meu
Îmi intră în fibră şi-n sânge.

(Versiune în limba Română
Copyright Constantin ROMAN

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Poetry in Translation (CV): Lt.-Col. Med. Dr. John Alexander MCCRAE (Canada) – In Flanders Fields; Pe-al Flandrei Câmp

June 2nd, 2012 · 3 Comments · International Media, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

PE-AL FLANDREI CÂMP
[ Lt.-Col. Dr. John Alexander McCrae (1872-1918), Canada ]

Pe-al Flandrei câmp, maci înfloresc
Plecându-şi capul printre cruci,
Sub care fraţii nostri zac, sub ceruri
Unde-aud, deabea, un vajnic cânt de ciocârlii,
Prin bubuit de tunuri, nefiresc.

Noi suntem morţii, care nu demult
Ne bucuram de soarele din cer.
Iubeam şi eram mult-iubiţi, dar astăzi zacem amorţiţi,
Pe-al Flandrei câmp.

Luaţi mai departe facla dela noi:
Din braţul care cade, luaţi-o sus
Să puneţi capăt greului război.
De veţi cădea în luptă, n-om putea
Să mai dormim, dar macii roşii-n veci vor înflori
Pe-al Flandrei câmp.

Versiune in limba Română
Constantin ROMAN
Londra, 3 Iunie 2012
© Constantin Roman, London, 2012

In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae, May 1915

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Historical Background:
During the early days of the Second Battle of Ypres a young Canadian artillery officer, Lieutenant Alexis Helmer, was killed on 2nd May, 1915 in the gun positions near Ypres. An exploding German artillery shell landed near him. He was serving in the same Canadian artillery unit as a friend of his, the Canadian military doctor and artillery commander Major John McCrae.
As the brigade doctor, John McCrae was asked to conduct the burial service for Alexis because the chaplain had been called away somewhere else on duty that evening. It is believed that later that evening, after the burial, John began the draft for his now famous poem “In Flanders Fields”.

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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

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Poetry in Translation (C): W.B. Yeates (1865 – 1939) – “When you are Old”, “

December 25th, 2011 · 1 Comment · PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

When You are Old
by W. B. Yeates

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Când esti bătrân

Când eşti cărunt, letargic şi bătrân,
Pe lângă sobă-o carte ai deschis…
Iar ochilor, târcoale dau, în vis,
Sclipirile ce-au fost, dar nu mai sânt.

Câţi oameni n-ar fi vrut să fi primit
Atâtea haruri dela Dumezeu,
Dar dintre toţi, eu singură, mereu
Am înţeles tot ce ai pătimit.

Pe culmi de munţi, zburând spre zări pustii,
O clipă, chipu-ţi trist a adăstat.
Dar ai purces, cu dorul necurmat,
Si faţ-ascunsă printre galaxii.

In Romaneste de Constantin ROMAN
Rendered in Romanian by Constantin ROMAN
© Constantin Roman, London, December 2011

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Poetry in Translation (XCIX): Richard Lovelace (1618 – 1658): “Tell Me Not, Sweet, I Am Unkind?” – “Lucastei – Adio, înainte de Luptă”

December 14th, 2011 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (XCIX): Richard Lovelace (1618 – 1658): “Tell Me Not, Sweet, I Am Unkind?” – “Lucastei – Adio, înainte de Luptă” · Poetry, quotations, Translations

“Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind
For, from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast, and quiet mind,
To war and arms I fly.

True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith- embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore;
For, I could not love thee, Dear, so much,
Loved I not honour more.”

Richard LOVELACE (1618 – 1658)

Lucastei – Adio, Inainte de Lupta

Iubito, sa nu-mi tii de rau
Ca din ispita fragedului piept
Ma-ndepartez de chipul tau
La lupta, aprig sa ma-ndrept.

Mireasa noua voi fi luat
In batalie, tantos,
Caci Sfantul Duh, m-a inarmat
C-un cal, c-un scut si-un palos.

Dar pururea eu voi pastra
In sufletu-mi aprinsa
Ca-n vecii vecilor va sta
Iubirea mea nestinsa.

Rendered in Romanian by Constantin ROMAN
London, December 2011
© All rights reserved, Constantin ROMAN, 2011

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Poetry in Translation (XCVIII): Siegfried Sassoon (1886-1967), “The Old French Poet” – “Cântec de demult”

October 30th, 2011 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (XCVIII): Siegfried Sassoon (1886-1967), “The Old French Poet” – “Cântec de demult” · Poetry, Translations

An Old FRENCH POET
Siegfried Sassoon (1886-1967)

When in your sober mood my body have ye laid
In sight and sound of things beloved, woodland and stream,
And the green turf has hidden the poor bones ye deem
No more a close companion with those rhymes we made;

Then, if some bird should pipe, or breezes stir the glade,
Thinking them for the while my voice, so let them seem
A fading message from the misty shores of dream,
Or wheresoever, following Death, my feet have strayed.

CÂNTEC DE DEMULT
[Siegfried Sassoon (1886-1967)]

Când ma veţi îngropa, cu gând cernit
In freamăt de pădure si izvoare
Şi iarba va ascunde-un oarecare
Tovarăş din trecutul mult jelit,

Atunci pădurea şi pârâul vor cânta,
Să v-amintească glasu-mi de-altă dată
Ecou din viaţa noastră fermecată,
Sau poate pasul meu ce-ar adăsta.

Rendered in Romanian by
Constantin Roman
London, October 2011
Copyright 2011 © Constantin ROMAN, Londra

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Poetry in Translation (XCV): Dylan Thomas: “The Hand that signed the Paper” – “Mâna ce-a pus pecetea”

October 17th, 2011 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (XCV): Dylan Thomas: “The Hand that signed the Paper” – “Mâna ce-a pus pecetea” · PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

Mana ce-a pus pecetea

Mâna ce-a pus pecetea, a-nvins cetatea;
Cinci degete au drămuit suflarea,
Si decimând o fire, au sfârtecat o ţară;
Cinci prinţi, tăind un cap incoronat.

Un braţ de fier e prins de-o fiinţă suptă,
Crispate mâini se strâng pe frânte scuturi;
O pană pe raboj a stins o luptă
Ce-a stins in gât un murmur.

Dar mâna pe răboj are lingoare,
Lăcuste fac prăpăd si-i foame mare;
Dar mare-i mâna ce apasă ţara
Pecetea unui singur Domn.

Cinci prinţi sfidează orice-nduplecare
Cu aprigi ochi privind o viaţă frântă;
In cer sau pe pământ fără iertare;
Căci mâna n-are lacrimi ca să plângă.

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