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Entries Tagged as 'Ireland'

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 ( LXXX) – William Butler YEATS – “The Lake Isle of Innisfree”

March 10th, 2011 · No Comments · Diaspora, Poetry, quotations, Translations

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

W.B. Yates (1865-1939)

” I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree.
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee loud glade.”

” But I, being poor, have only my dreams.
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.”

W. B. Yeats (1865-1939)

Insula de pe lacul Innisfree

(Traducere libera de Constantin ROMAN)

Voi invia din morti, sa zbor la Innisfree

Sa-mi fac in vis coliba din paie si chirpici

Pe dealul insorit printre stupi voi tanji

Sa traiesc solitar in zumzetul de-aici.

Dar sarac fiind sa fiu, doar un gand de pribeag

Mai ramane s-astern sub calcaiu-ti de vis

Peste doru-mi ai grije prea greu sa nu calci

Sa apari ca un fulg cand vei trece-al meu prag.

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Poetry in Translation (LXXIX): Anna Vivanti Chartres (1868-1942) – “Ego”

November 1st, 2010 · 1 Comment · Diaspora, PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

Anna Vivanti Chartres (1868-1942), born in London, the daughter of Anselmo Vivanti an Italian political exile from Mantua and of Anna Landau, coming from a German Jewish family with strong literary traditions, Anna Vivanti married Jack Smith Chartres (1862-1927), an Anglo-Irish barrister of strong Republican leanings, who negotiated together with Michael Collins and Arthur Griffith the Anglo-Irish treaty leading to the Independence of the Republic of Ireland.

Anna Vivanti Chartres was a close friend of Giosue Carducci and her poetry is regarded being part of the ‘decadent’ stream of the late Italian romantic poetry.

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Poetry in Translation (LXXVII): W.B. Yeats (1865-1939) – “Cloths of Heaven” (Manta Celesta:

October 1st, 2010 · 1 Comment · PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

W.B. Yeats (1865–1939)

Poet Irlandez, Premiul Nobel pentru Literatura

MANTA CELESTA

Manta celesta de as fi avut

Cu flori de aur si margarint,

Pe-a noptii straie, de-azur cernut,

In umbre cu sclipire de argint,

Sub pasii tai de mult le-as fi tinut.

Dar fiind sarac, doar vise de pripas

Mai pot s-astern pe drum, in calea-ti lunga:

Ai grije, cand pasesti, sa nu se franga,

Caci este totul ce mi-a mai ramas!

(Versiune in limba Romana – Constaantin ROMAN, Londra, Copyright 2010, All rights reserved)

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Ceausescu and Jonathan SWIFT – The Seditious Captain GULLIVER

April 25th, 2010 · No Comments · Books, PEOPLE, quotations

Surely, the Reverend Jonathan Swift never expected, in his wildest dreams to be ‘excommunicated’ by communist dictator Nicolae Ceausescu: not that Ceausescu ever read Jonathan Swift! That was not necessary! Ceausescu did not read ANY books at all – he was instead famous for his semi-literacy and for professing a distinctly basic vernacular Romanian…
Yet, amazingly, in spite of such auspicious circumstances, Jonathan Swift managed posthumously to blot his copybook with the Communist dictator… Read on the problems encountered by an editor in Bucharest in the 1980s who tried to publish Swift”s Satyres:
Publishing Swift’s satires in 1985, I myself fought a lot with the censor in order to include “A Modest proposal” concerning eating Irish children, which had become subversive here on account of meat shortage in Romania. Faced with the alternative of not publishing the book at all, or doing it without the famous text, I gave it up. The supreme level of censorship was a department of the (Communist) Party Central Committee.
“Publishing Swift’s satires in 1985, I myself fought a lot with the censor in order to include “A Modest proposal” concerning eating Irish children, which had become subversive here on account of meat shortage in Romania. Faced with the alternative of not publishing the book at all, or doing it without the famous text, I gave it up. The supreme level of censorship was a department of the (Communist) Party Central Committee.”

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The Best Times, This Side of the Atlantic…

October 20th, 2009 · No Comments · Books, International Media, PEOPLE, Reviews

All these events were chronicled by the Irish Times during its twists and turns of fortunes and soul-searching which remains truly amazing in being able to secure a steady readership AND survive through thick and thin. Dermot James relates these events from within with the sharp eye of the journalist and his story is riveting – it is not just about the humdrum of life of editors but reflects the beating heart of a whole nation: he tells it with zest and irony in the best tradition of Irish humour. The reader is certainly not disappointed – there is no dull moment, just an alert pace where light stories intermingle with hard facts which caught the staff of the Irish Times at the core of each historic event.

This particular phenomenon of change and adaptation through choppy waters merits in itself the attention of the media in other countries which were equally visited by revolutions, civil wars, strife and radical changes of government and of political directions. Such is the case of the young nations of Eastern Europe, in a broad way going through a same process of renewal as Ireland did, but also of nations of Central Europe who lived through upheavals which toppled monarchies brought in dictatorships, suffered the indignity of defeat or the weighty burden of victory: how might their newspapers been affected? The difference between the Irish Times and its counterparts on the Continent of Europe is that the former has survived through constant change, whilst in most of the other countries, especially behind the Iron Curtain newspapers disappeared overnight. So far as the ethos of this web site is concerned the comparison with the Romania media is of special interest, as one feels that the Irish Times offers a good template for comparison.

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Poetry in Translation (LXIV): W.B. YEATS – In Memoria D-relor Eva Gore-Booth si Con Markiewicz

August 30th, 2009 · No Comments · Poetry, Translations

In Memory of Eva Gore-Booth and Con Markiewicz

The light of evening, Lissadell,
Great windows open to the south,
Two girls in silk kimonos,both
Beautiful, one a gazelle.
But a raving Autumn shears
Blossom from the Summer’s wreath;
The older is condemned to death,
Pardoned, drags out lonely years
Conspiring among the ignorant.
I know not what the younger dreams-
Some vague Utopia-and she seems,
When withered old and skeleton-gaunt,
An image of such politics.
Many a time I think to seek
One or the other out and speak
Of that old Georgian mansion, mix
Pictures of the mind, recall
That table and the talk of youth,
Two girls in silk kimonos, both
Beautiful, one a gazelle.

Dear shadows, now you know it all,
All the folly of a fight
With a common wrong or right.
The innocent and the beautiful
Have no enemy but time;
Arise and bid me strike a match
And strike another till time catch;
Should the conflagration climb,
Run till all the sages know.
We the great gazebo built,
They convicted us of guilt;
Bid me strike a match and blow.

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Poetry in Translation (LXIII): Ada TYRRELL – MY SON – Fiul meu

August 24th, 2009 · No Comments · Poetry, Translations

Ada Tyrrell (1854-1955), Anglo-Irish writer and socialite is best known for her poem “My Son” written during WWI. In the context of the current British engagement in Irak and Afghanistan it has a particularly poignant relevance. fregments of this poem are rendered into Romanian.

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De 17 Martie, Ziua Sf. Patrick , Romania saluta Irlanada

March 15th, 2006 · Comments Off · Diary, PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

17 MARTIE – ZIUA SFANTULUI PATRICK DE ZIUA NATIONALA A IRLANDEI, ROMANIA SALUTA IRLANDA (Constantin Roman, Londra, Martie 2006) Patrick este cel mai obisnuit pronume al Irlandezilor cu echivalentul feminin de Patricia, amandoua folosind, acelasi diminutiv – Pat, oarecum confuz pentru identitatea genului. Cel mai vechi text din literatura Irlandeza este chiar documentul scris de [...]

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Poetry in Translation (XXVI): Hector MCDONNELL (b.1947) – “Sf. Patrick”

February 18th, 2006 · Comments Off · PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

Patrick, cine esti Tu?
Te cautam prin versuri latinesti
Bezmetici prin noianul de nestiri

Cuvintele-ti ne scapa printre maini
Iar leaganul nu-ti este nicaieri
Erai in Mayo sau in Slemish Hill?
Si ce uriasi te-au strans la pieptul lor?

Aiurea,
L-ai strigat pe Dumnezeu
Ce-a coborat adanc in trupul tau
Sa-ti dea curaj sa-nvingi la drumuri noi

Care-a fost imparatul
Ce te-a-njosit? Unde-ai plecat?
Te cautam, dar inca nu te stim
Strajerii tai se uita-n varf de munti si-asteapta
Pasul tau.

(traducere de Constantin ROMAN, Feb. 2006)

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