La chair est triste, hélas ! et j’ai lu tous les livres.
Fuir ! là-bas fuir ! Je sens que des oiseaux sont ivres
D’être parmi l’écume inconnue et les cieux !
Rien, ni les vieux jardins reflétés par les yeux,
La chair est triste, hélas ! et j’ai lu tous les livres.
Fuir ! là-bas fuir ! Je sens que des oiseaux sont ivres
D’être parmi l’écume inconnue et les cieux !
Rien, ni les vieux jardins reflétés par les yeux,
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A glittering pearl necklace, made of sunflower seeds,
A double-winged Pegasus out of a humble bee …
Forgive me, though, dear Father, of this – mine foolish jest,
To have imagined Thee –
As I thought might be best…
But the World was too pallid, than I thought it might be.
My Lord, sprinkle my eyebrows, with drops of holly sea.
Chastise my sinful body,
Behold my tongue of python,
Remove the foolish demon, that pronounced the unheard.
Do give zest to my body, depicted in Your icon…
To forget I was ever beholden by Thy word!
Rendered in English from the original Romanian verse: by Constantin ROMAN, London
© 2015 Copyright Constantin ROMAN, London
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Epigram
Our good Abbot Kir
Had a dream rather queer,
Even though, he agreed, somewhat vain…
To his flute of Champagne
He would add some cassis
And he found the result utter bliss!
Când Abatele Kir, de acel renume,
S-a trezit din vis,
Turnând şampanie-n casis,
N-a crezut de fel,
Că acest cocktail,
Îi va duce o faimă în lume.
author/autor: Constantin ROMAN
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When I was young and had no sense,
In far-off Mandalay,
I lost my heart to a Burmese girl
As lovely as the day.
Her skin was gold, her hair was jet,
Her teeth were ivory;
I said, “for twenty silver pieces,
Maiden, sleep with me”.
She looked at me, so pure, so sad,
The loveliest thing alive,
And in her lisping, virgin voice,
Stood out for twenty-five.
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How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!
How cheerfully he seems to grin,
How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in,
With gently smiling jaws!
Cum face micul crocodil
S-arate solzii săi
Sclipind în unda de pe Nil
Prin mii de mici scântei!
În gură fericit îi lasă
Toţi peştii, ca prieteni vechi,
Să intre, şi îi şi înhaţă,
(Rendered in Romanian by Constantin ROMAN
© 2013 Copyright Constantin ROMAN)
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MOTTO (In Marea Trecere): Opreste trecerea. Ştiu că unde nu e moarte nu e nici iubire – şi totuşi to rog: opreste, Doamne, ceasornicul cu care ne măsuri destrămarea.
Lucian Blaga (1922-1985), Poetry in Translation (XIV), “To my Readers” (CĂTRE CITITORI)
Versiune Engleza de Constantin ROMAN (Londra)
1924
Motto
The Great Passage:
Halt the Great Passge. I know Mylord there is no Love without Death. And yet, Mylord, please stop the clock with which you measure our decay.
“Believe me, believe me one could speak endlessly about anything:
About Fate and the well-wishing Snake
About Archangels ploughing the Garden of Man
About the Sky which we hope to reach,
About Hatred and Fall, Sadness and Crucifixion…
But above all, about the Great Passage.
Yet words are nothing else than the tears
Of those who wished so much to cry, but couldn’t.
Bitter, so bitter are all words
And therefore
Let me walk in silence amongst you
Cross your way
Eyes-closed.
(Rendered in English by Constantin ROMAN)
Copyright Constantin Roman, 2011
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