translation

Entries Tagged as 'translation'

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,

Poetry in Translation (CI): Lord BYRON (1788-1824) – “Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage” – “Pelerinajul Tânărului Harold”

January 13th, 2012 · 1 Comment · PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

LORD BYRON:
Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage
Canto the Fourth
CXLI

He heard it, but he heeded not — his eyes
Were with his heart, and that was far away;
He reck’d not of the life he lost nor prize,
But where his rude hut by the Danube lay,

There where his young barbarians all at play,
There was their Dacian mother — he, their sire,
Butcher’d to make a Roman holiday —

All this rush’d with his blood — Shall he expire
And unavenged? Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire!

Lordul Byron (1788-1824)
Pelerinajul Tânărului Harold
Al patrulea Canto CXLI

El auzise, fără să- şi dea seama. – căci gândul lui
Cu inima era, dar ea era acuma prea departe;
Şi nu mai cugeta la viaţa scursă, nici ls răsplata dată orişicui,
Ci doar la vatră visul să-l mai poarte,

Pe valea Dunarii, unde-s la joacă toţi fraţii săi barbari,
Cu gândul e la muma-i, la Dacia străbună,
Adânc măcelărită de braţ de legionari…

Tot visu-i i-e in sânge – Cum, moartea să-l răpună
Nerăsplătit? La arme, Goţi, mânia vă răzbună!

Versiune in limba Romănă
Constantin ROMAN
Londra, Ianuarie 2012
© Constantin ROMAN

Poetry in Translation (C I): William Stafford (1914 – 1993) – “A Story That Could Be True”, “O poveste aproape adevărată”

December 28th, 2011 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (C I): William Stafford (1914 – 1993) – “A Story That Could Be True”, “O poveste aproape adevărată” · International Media, Poetry, quotations, Translations

Poetry in Translation (C I): William Stafford (1914 – 1993) – “A Story That Could Be True”, “O poveste aproape adevărată”
They miss the whisper that runs
any day in your mind,
“Who are you really, wanderer?”–
and the answer you have to give
no matter how dark and cold
the world around you is:
“Maybe I’m a king.”

Ei nu-ţi vor auzi şoapta
ce-ţi trece mereu prin minte.
“Oare cine eşti tu, străine?”
Iar tu, ori cât de intunecată şi rece
ţi-ar părea lumea din jurul tău, vei răspunde:
“Eu, poate sunt Împăratul!”

Versiune in Limba Româna
Constantin ROMAN
© Constantin ROMAN, 2011

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

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

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

Poetry in Translation (XCVII): Gabriela Melinescu, “Birth of Constellations” (Ivirea Stelelor)

October 23rd, 2011 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (XCVII): Gabriela Melinescu, “Birth of Constellations” (Ivirea Stelelor) · Diaspora, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

[caption id="attachment_3546" align="aligncenter" width="132" caption="Gabriela Melinescu (b. 1942, Romania) Swedish Romanian Poet, Exile"]

[/caption]

Poetry in Translation (XCVII): Gabriela Melinescu, “Birth of Constellations” (Ivirea Stelelor)

Other people are born here, on Earth,
In a fresh scent of salt and milk.
The buds burst out biting the twigs,
With the silky movement of a serpent.

O, would I ever
Be reborn?
With dilated pupils, o, breeze of pain
With white clouds, will you pass over my face?

Would you, one evening, leave me again
Like a translucent bone on the hot sands
And fretting on the sky’s pavement, oh, Mater,
Would you ever remember our love?

In Româneşte de Constantin ROMAN
(Londra, Octombrie, 2011)
Copyright 2011 © Constantin ROMAN, Londra

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.

Poetry in Translation (XCII & XCIII): – Tomas Tranströmer, Nobel Prize 2011

October 8th, 2011 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (XCII & XCIII): – Tomas Tranströmer, Nobel Prize 2011 · PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations, Uncategorized

[caption id="attachment_3397" align="aligncenter" width="262" caption="Tomas Tranströmer (n. 1931, Suedia, Premiul Nobel 2011 pentru Literaturà"][/caption]
Premiul Nobel pentru Literatura, 2011 – Tomas Tranströmer (n. 1931, Suedia)

Dupà Moarte
de Tomas Tranströmer (n. 1931, Suedia)

Cândva a fost o ràbufnire
lasând în urmà o dârà lungà, ca o coadà de cometà.
Ramânem închişi in casà. Pe televizor imaginile devin şterse.
Picàturi de apà încremenesc pe fire de telefon.

Sub raze de iarnà, încà mai poţi aluneca uşor cu sania,
printre copacii care-au pàstrat doar doua frunze,
ca nişte pagini rupte din anuarul telefonic.,
nişte nume încremenite de frig.

Poate este de necrezut sà-ţi auzi bàtaia inimii
Dar pe undeva, umbra, poate ar fi mai aevea dacât trupul.
Samuraiul ràmâne doar o copie ştearsà
faţà de platoşa lui de balaur, cu solzi negri .

In Româneşte de Constantin ROMAN
(Londra, Octombrie, 2011)

[gallery]
Pereche
Tomas Tranströmer (n. 1931, Suedia)
(Premiul Nobel pentru Literatura, 2011)

Ei sting lumina, dar becul ràmâne încà, pentru o clipà,
incandescent, înainte ca sà se dizolve, ca o pastilà,
într-un pahar de întuneric. Apoi o ràbufnire.
Pereţii hotelului zboarà in întunericul cerului.
Zvâcnirile lor au devenit mai tandre, si au adormit,
Dar gândurile lor làuntrice se împreuneazà
Ca doua dâre de acuarelà care se contopesc
şi curg laolaltà pe pagina umedà, de caiet, al unui şcolar.
E întuneric si liniste. Dar cetatea s-a apropiat mai mult
în noaptea asta. Cu obloanele trase. Casele s-au adunat.
Imbulziţi, stau de veghe, lipiţi,
o droaie de oameni, cu feţe oarbe.

[caption id="attachment_3407" align="aligncenter" width="320" caption="Tomas Tranströmer (B. 1931, Sweden) Nobel Prize for Poetry 2011"]

[/caption]

Poetry in Translation (XCI): Radu GYR – (Ridică-te, Gheorghe, ridică-te, Ioane!) Arise, brother Andrew, arise, brother John!

September 27th, 2011 · 4 Comments · PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

Radu GYR – (Ridică-te, Gheorghe, ridică-te, Ioane!) Arise, brother Andrew, arise, brother John!

It is not for the sake of a bread on your table,
it is neither for pastures and nor for the stock,
it is rather for living a peace which is stable:
arise brother Andrew, arise brother Jock!

For the sake of your kinsmen who died in the ditches
for the hymns that you sang as you stood in the dock
for the tears of the heavens, as you pained in the shackles
arise brother Andrew, arise brother Jock!

It is not for the anger resounding your body
it’s instead for the sake of your cry to the world,
for the distant horizons with a brimful of planets,
arise brother Andrew, arise brother Jock!

If you wish to regain all the ancestral freedoms,
through the heavenly gates your admission to gain,
break to pieces the shackles which are cutting your body,
arise brother Andrew, arise brother Jock!

As prostrate you may wish once again to embrace
all that’s left from the blaze of your family’s hearth
they all gently come back to take hold of your soul
arise brother Andrew, arise brother Jock!

Arise brother Andrew, by freeing your shackles!
Arise brother Jock, back again on your bones!
Alight to the Heavens, the tempest abated,
arise brother Andrew, arise brother Jock!

(Rendered from Romanian by Constantin ROMAN, September 2011)

Centre for Romanian Studies