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

December 28th, 2011 · No Comments · 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 (XCVIII): Siegfried Sassoon (1886-1967), “The Old French Poet” – “Cântec de demult”

October 30th, 2011 · No Comments · 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 (XCVI): Rodica Iuian, “Sculpted Head”

October 19th, 2011 · No Comments · Diaspora, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

Sculpted Head:
Rodica IULIAN *b Romania,1931)

“He was handsome, the child-Caligula
He was serene the child-Caligula
He had a child-like smile
The child-Caligula.
I ought to have bought him a fair yearling
One hundred yearlings
For him to have a whole Senate of yearlings
To play with
And to let them be
Yearlings, true yearlings
Each and every one of them ridden
By the child-Caligula
The child-Caligula
Never Caligula – the adult.”

(Iulian, Rodica, Stained glass- Poems, page 28,
Translated by Constantin Roman)

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

September 27th, 2011 · 2 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)

POETRY IN TRANSLATION (LXXXVI): Patrick McGuinness -”Father and Son” (In Memoria Tatalui si Binevenirea Fiului meu)

July 16th, 2011 · No Comments · International Media, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

Patrick McGuinness: Father and Son

(in memory of my father, and in welcome to my son)

In the wings there is one who waits to go on,
and another, his scene run, who waits to go.
I would like to think they met; if not here
then like crossed letters touching in the dark;

the blank page and the turned page,
the first and the last, shadows folding
over and across me, in whom they’re bound.

Published in Metre, Spring 2005

Tata si Fiu

(In Memoria Tatalui si Binevenirea Fiului meu)

In culise un om asteapta sa intre in scena,

iar altul, cu rolul terminat, asteapta sa plece.

asi vrea sa cred ca s-ar fi intalnit, cel putin aici,

daca nu, intocmai cuvintelor, trecand prin ceata;

o pagina alba si una intoarsa,

prima si ultima, umbre impaturite

peste mine si prin mine, o fibra din trupul meu.

(versiune in limba Romana © Constantin ROMAN, 16 Iulie 2011)

Poetry in translation: Mihai Eminescu (LXXXIII) – Ai nostri tineri (The Nation’s Youth)

June 15th, 2011 · No Comments · Diaspora, PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

The Nation’s Youth

(Mihai EMINESCU)

The Nation’s Youth, to Paris go to study

The art of tying round its neck a tie.

And so, to demonstrate at home the mindset,

Of being wiser than a half-baked pie.

In town, the down-and-outs look up astounded

To see them twist their whiskers in their carriage,

Or, gripping with their teeth a long Havana

When traipsing up and down, along the Passage.

Their nasal vowels smirk their clownish faces:

They prop the pillars of cafes and brothels

To show they do not earn a living, they parade it.

Yet all these air-heads vie for the impression

Expressed in their forgotten, native language

That they are our brightest constellation.

***

English Version by Constantin ROMAN

Poetry in Translation (LXXVIII): Philip Larkin (1922-1985) – “Heads in the Women’s Ward” (Azil)

October 2nd, 2010 · 2 Comments · PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

Philip Larkin
Heads in the Women’s Ward (1972)

On pillow after pillow lies
The wild white hair and staring eyes;

Jaws stand open; necks are stretched
With every tendon sharply sketched;

Poetry in Translation (LXXIV): Marin Sorescu (b. 1950) – “Exile”

March 26th, 2010 · 1 Comment · PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

EXIL (Marin Sorescu)
Au inflorit cartofii in Marmatia / si voi tocmai acum plecati spre sud /cand ceru-i aiurit si descusut / cand se confunda bocetul cu natia ? /

EXILE

As the potato flowers are in bloom
You take the road which ever us do part?
Now that the sky is gray and overcast
And tears confound the country and the doom?

The grief will be for you the new abode
Perhaps a warmer grave and newer ethos
We shall unearth those emerald potatoes
Those precious stones dug out from where we hoed.

What kind of God preserved in secret heavens
May still be glad to gather our bones
With you, with us we cry on our tombs
With you with us a story ends in ruins.
(Translated from Romanian by Constantin ROMAN)

“Blouse Roumaine – Antologie de Femei Exceptionale” – Recenzie

March 23rd, 2010 · No Comments · Books, Diaspora, PEOPLE, Reviews

Pentru ca aceste fiinte pline de viata, femei tenace dar si frumoase, fie ele ca ar fi luat drumul exilului sau ca ar fi optat sa ramana in tara, sub dictatura, au avut fiecare in parte de istorisit o poveste extraordinara sau poate cel putin au putut sa ne ofere un crampei de citat memorabil. Pentru ca “Blouse Roumaine” nu reprezinta doar o ‘Corala al Romaniei’ dar si un ‘Memorial al Durerii’, fiindca firul vietii acestor romance, mame, sotii, surori, reprezinta chiar acea pelicula de film care se desfasoara in fata ochilor nostri si care nu se poate rezuma doar la simple bucate pentru gustul initiatilor academici: aceste vieti sunt de fapt o liturghie ortodoxa, o epifanie romaneasca care, prin ochii mintii, readuc la viata, o realitate fascinanta, dar estompata de sita vremii sau de amnezia preprogramata impusa de vremelnici guvernanti, o realitate care are catene organice nebanuite in subconstientul European.

Acest narativ al ‘iei romanesti’, prin continut lui liric, dar si spiritual, cu accente satirice, fara compromisuri, poate aparea unor cititori, pe undeva, daca nu polemic, cel putin sfidator, prin acele incursiuni in meandrele istoriei recente, care reflecta o realitate politica schizofrenica, a unei lumi plina de contraste si contradictii, pentru ca, in complectarea acestei perioade istorice, cititorului i se ofera o retrospectiva a unei epoci mai emotive a Golgotei ispasite sub comunism de o natiune intreaga: mai precis de eopca intunecata si necrutatoare a Anei Pauker si a Elenei Ceausescu, dar si al poetilor de Curte si ai unor pitici morali si saltimbanci, umbre din trecutul apropiat care explica mostenirea sistemului communist in Romania post-moderna.

Poetry in Translation (LXXII): – Horia VINTILA, “Dedication”

December 17th, 2009 · 1 Comment · Diaspora, PEOPLE, Poetry, Reviews, Translations

DEDICATION (Vintila Horia)
Through streets of Babylon I look confused
For Thee my Lord to come in your pursuit
My voice is hoarse and broken like a lute
Which lost its soul for being over used.

Centre for Romanian Studies