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Entries Tagged as '“Political prisoner”'

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)

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Poetry in Translation (LXXXI): Lucian Blaga (1922-1985) – “To my Readers” (CĂTRE CITITORI)

March 30th, 2011 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (LXXXI): Lucian Blaga (1922-1985) – “To my Readers” (CĂTRE CITITORI) · PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

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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Poetry in Translation (LXXIII-LXXV): Al. O. Teodoreanu, aka ‘Pastorel’ – “At Stalin’s Death”

February 12th, 2010 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (LXXIII-LXXV): Al. O. Teodoreanu, aka ‘Pastorel’ – “At Stalin’s Death” · PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

At Stalin’s death I cried my eyes out / The secret being truly gritty: / We’ll have instead to go about / Licking the arse of a Committee.

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Constantin NOICA (1909-1987) – Centenar (Isabela Vasiliu-Scraba)

December 13th, 2009 · 4 Comments · OPINION, PEOPLE

“Comuniştii s-au aşezat prea aproape de oameni; s-au instalat în cămara lor de alimente, în culcuşul lor, în sertarele lor [cu manuscrise], pe cât posibil chiar în conştiinţele lor, încât indispun prin simpla lor voce, cu simplul lor ziar ” (Noica, Rugaţi-vă pentru fratele Alexandru, 1990, p. 15)

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Poetry in Translation (XXIV): Ion Caraion – “Seul au Monde” / “Singur pe lume”

November 12th, 2005 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (XXIV): Ion Caraion – “Seul au Monde” / “Singur pe lume” · Diaspora, PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

– Où vous emmènnent-ils, Monsieur?
– Dans le jardin, mon rêve.
– Pour quoi faire, Monsieur?
– Pour me fusiller, mon rêve.
– Parce qu’ils ont des balles, Monsieur?
– Parce qu’ils ont le temps, mon rêve.
– Où vous enterreront-ils, Monsieur?
– Sous la neige, mon rêve.
– Avez-vous peur, Monsieur?
– Je trouve ça révoltant, mon rêve.
– Qui doit-on prévenir, Monsieur?
– Les feux de l’enfer, mon rêve.
– Ça va aller quand même, Monsieur?
– Il fera nuit, mon rêve.
– Qui est votre plus proche parent, Monsieur?
– Je suis seul au monde, mon rêve.
– Voulez-vous boire un verre, Monsieur?
– Qu’est-ce que ça va me coûter, mon rêve?
– Peu importe le prix, Monsieur.
– Le calice est-il empoisonné, mon rêve?
– Vous n’en voulez pas, Monsieur?
– Casse-le en mille morceaux, mon rêve!
– Doit-on vous pleurer, Monsieur?
– Inutile, mon rêve.
– Bonne nuit, Monsieur.
– Dormons ensemble, mon rêve!
– Je dors seul, Monsieur.

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Alone in the World

by Ion Caraion. Translated by Constantin Roman.

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Poetry in Translation (I): Ion Caraion – “Alone”

February 18th, 2003 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (I): Ion Caraion – “Alone” · Poetry, Translations

“Where are you going, Sir?
In the garden, my Dream.
To do what, Sir?
To be shot, my Dream.
‘cause they have bullets, Sir?
‘cause they have time, my Dream.”

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Note:
Ion Caraion, (1923-1986), Poet, Essayist
(from “Am pe nimeni” – “I have nobody”)
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Translated from Romanian by:
Constantin Roman.
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