Jealousy
Had we never met before
(Incidentally, by mistake)
You’d have loved, for Goodness’ sake,
Any lad and any bore.
Jealousy
Had we never met before
(Incidentally, by mistake)
You’d have loved, for Goodness’ sake,
Any lad and any bore.
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Când te vei trezi, lipiţi de geamuri,
arlechini din sticle colorate
vor lăsa prin ei să-ţi cadă-n braţe
soarele, mereu la jumătate.
As you will find it, early in the morning,
the arlequin will start his joyful dancing:
as all resplendent sunrays will be donning
the immortality in which you will be basking.
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Now,
time, I roll you up,
I deposit you in my
bait box
and I am off to fish
with your long line
the fishes of the dawn!
Acum a sosit
timpul să te înfăşor,
să te pun în
cursă
si să pescuiesc
cu undiţa ta lungă
peştii zorilor.
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Tags:"Centre for Romanian Studies - London"·"Constantin Roman"·"Poetry in Translation"·Chile·Pablo Neruda·poet·poetry·poezie·Spanish·traducere·translation·translator·“Odă Bătrâneţii”·“Ode to Age”
Adrian MUNTEANU
(b. 1948, Brasov)
“The Sonnet – an Eternal Tease”
I write a sonnet as a constant tease –
Its rules are there to liberate my dream,
To be myself and follow, as I seem
To play with empty words of love and ease.
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I don’t believe in age.
All old people
carry
in their eyes,
a child.
Nu cred in vârstă.
Toţi bătrânii
poartă
în ochii lor,
un copil,
iar copiii
uneori
ne privesc
cu ochii înţelepţilor de demult.
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Când în albastrul, de-azur, orizont
Soarele-apare aşa minunat,
Oare de ce m-a împins a mea soartă
Spre mii de primejdii să fi înfruntat?
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Below, a current azure bright,
Above, a golden ray of sun…
Rebellious, it seeks out a storm
As if in storms it could find peace!
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Sărut pe frunte
Marina TSVETAEVA
(1892-1941)
Un sărut pe frunte – şterge mizeria.
Iţi sărut fruntea.
Un sărut pe ochi – şterge insomnia
Iţi sărut ochii.
Un sărut pe buze – e-un pahar cu apă.
Iţi sărut buzele.
Un sărut pe buze – iţi şterge memoria.
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Cel ce plânge nu-i singur mereu,
Voi, lacrimi, să curgeţi din plin!
O singură jale este mult prea puţin;
Căci ferice să fi este greu.
Când destinul hain, mă-nconvoaie din plin,
Sufletul e pierdut pe cărare;
Resemnată păşesc spre destinul divin:
Când amarul mă-ndreaptă spre zare.
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