D. H. Lawrence (1885-1930), novelist, poet, playwright, essayist, literary critic and painter

D.H. Lawrence este cunoscut in toata lumea pentru romanele sale care la vremea lor au facut scandal in Anglia puritana si pentru care s-a exilat ca sa moara departe de tara. De abea la doua decenii dupa disparitia lui prematura, la varsta de 45 de ani, cartile lui cenzurate au putut fi tiparite in Marea Britanie iar romanele lui transpuse in filme devenite clasice, dintre care doar cateva sunt: “Lady Chatterley”, “Sons and Lovers”,”The Rainbow”, s.a.

D.H. Lawrence: "Sons and Lovers" (Leonard McCombe movie)

D.H. Lawrence: "Lady Chatterley's Lover"

D.H. Lawrence - "Women in Love"

Fiul unui miner din Anglia, deci din punct de vedere Marxist de “origine sociala sanatoasa”, opera lui Lawrence a fost complect ignorata in Romania comunista, ceeace a reprezentat o pierdere pentru cei ce nu au putut sa il citeasca in original. Sub acest aspect este ironica simetria atitudinii sociale din Anglia anilor 1930 cu cea a Romaniei anilor comunisti, care au cenzurat asemenea opere literare dintr-o convergenta pe cat de curioasa pe atat de neasteptata – in Anglia datorita falsului puritanism, iar in republica populara si mai apoi socialista sub obrocul “moralei proletare”, impusa de talibanii semidocti.

Traducerea poemului de mai jos, aparut in vers liber, ilustreaza un stil care ar fi rezultat in asemenea reactii bipolare: iata inca un exemplu de convergenta extremelor – puritanismul burghez si cel asa-zis proletar.

www.romanianstudies.org/content/2011/09/poetry-in-transla…

NU MĂ PRIVIŢI
(DON’T LOOK AT ME)
D. H. LAWRENCE

Nu mă priviţi aşa, că-mi este frică
nu ştiu ce vreţi, dar asta n-o pot da.

Falusul meu modest, nu mai palpită
deloc, stimate Doamne,
deci cereţi altceva.

Cât despre-nnsămânţarea voastră, cum adică?
eu nu vă pot jigni cu fapta mea..

Dar Fiul Cel de Sus n-o să adăste
ca sa trimită-n schimb, pe fiica sa
pe câmp de luptă să culeagă sule.

căci eu tăiat am fost, de ani de zile.

Iar de urziţi, cumva, dragelor-dragi, ca bolta să vă cadă-n cap
ea e proptită doar pe stâlpi de sule
ce-o să vă ţină drepte, in proţap.

Versiune in limba Româna de Constantin ROMAN
Copyright © Constantin ROMAN, 2011

Dante Gabriel Rossetti - "Golden Head" (Illustration to Christina Rossetti's Poems (1862)

REMEMBER
by: Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)

REMEMBER me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann’d:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.

POMENIRE
Nu mă uita, atunci când n-oi mai fi,
Plecat in veci pe un tărâm de plâns
Când pieptul meu nu-l vei mai ţine strâns
Dorind sa stau departe de cei vii.

Nu mă uita, asa cum sunt acum
Să-ţi povestesc de ce vom fi visat
Păstrează-mă in minte, ne-ntinat.
Când nu voi mai putea sa te indrum.

E lesne de-nţeles când n-oi mai fi
Va fi mai greu să iţi mai dau vre-un sfat
Si doar o clipă de-asi fi pregetat
Eu rogu-te-n genunchi. nu mă jeli.

Iar in mormânt de ar mai fi rămas
Doar o fărâmă din acel ce-am fost
Cu un surâs să stergi trecutul tot
Decât sa plângi cu lacrimi de pripas.

Romanian Version by Constantin ROMAN
copyright September 2011

Patrick McGuinness

Patrick McGuinness, Poet and Academic of Irish and Belgian extraction. His first novel, The last Hundred Days, (Seren Books, 1911) is based on his experience of life during the terminal years of Ceausescu’s dictatorship.

Poet si Universitar de origine Irlandeza si Belgiana, Patrick McGuinness a debutat cu romanul intitulat Ultima suta de zile (The last Hundred Days, Seren Books, 1911) care povesteste despre anii traiti in perioada  agoniei  Ceausiste.

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)

In Memory of my Father, and in Welcome to my Son

I shall defend the House of my Father against wolves...

VATRA STRAMOSEASCA

(Gabriel ARESTI, 1963, “NIRE AITAREN ETXEA”)

Voi apara

Vatra stramoseasca

De haitele de lupi,

De seceta,

De camatari,

De Jude,

Voi apara

Vatra

Stramoseasca.

Voi pierde

Cireada

Livada

Si codrul de brazi.

Voi irosi

Dobanda,

Venitul

Si bruma de bani

Dar voi apara

Vatra

Stramoseasca.

Imi vor lua armele

Dar cu bratele goale voi apara

Vatra Stramoseasca;

Imi vor smulge

Bratele

Umerii

Si pieptul

Dar cu sufletul voi apara

Vatra stramoseasca.

Voi muri

Si suflul meu va pieri

Urmasii mei vor pieri

Dar vatra stramoseasca

Va dainui.

Inaltatoare.

(Rendered in Romanian by Constantin ROMAN, From the English translation of Tony STRUBELL)

London 14 July 2011.

———————————————————————————————————————

MY FATHER’S HOUSE

(NIRE AITAREN ETXEA)

Gabriel Aresti, 1963

I shall defend

The house of my father.

Against wolves,

Against drought,

Against usury,

Against the Justice,

I shall defend

The house

of my father.

I shall lose

cattle,

orchards,

and pinewoods;

I shall lose

Interests,

Income,

And dividends,

But I shall defend the house of my father.

They will take away my weapons

And with my hands I shall defend

The house of my father;

They will cut off my hands

And with my arms I shall defend

The house of my father;

They will leave me

Without arms,

Without shoulders,

And without breasts,

And with my soul I shall defend

The house of my father.

I shall die,

My soul will be lost,

My descendence will be lost,

But the house of my father

Will remain

Standing.

(Translation: Toni Strubell)

—————————————

NIRE AITAREN ETXEA

(Gabriel Aresti, 1963)

Nire aitaren etxea

defendituko dut.

Otsoen kontra,

sikatearen kontra,

lukurreriaren kontra,

justiziaren kontra,

defenditu

eginen dut

nire aitaren etxea.

Galduko ditut

aziendak,

soloak,

pinudiak;

galduko ditut

korrituak,

errentak,

interesak,

baina nire aitaren etxea defendituko dut.

Harmak kenduko dizkidate,

eta eskuarekin defendituko dut

nire aitaren etxea;

eskuak ebakiko dizkidate,

eta besoarekin defendituko dut

nire aitaren etxea;

besorik gabe,

sorbaldik gabe,

bularrik gabe

utziko naute,

eta arimarekin defendituko dut

nire aitaren etxea.

Ni hilen naiz,

nire arima galduko da,

nire askazia galduko da,

baina nire aitaren etxeak

iraunen duik.

© Gabriel Aresti, 1963

———————————–

Short Biographical NOTE:

Gabriel Aresti Segurola (1933 — 1975) was one of the most important writers and poets in Basque language in the 20th century. Very critical and controversial, he published many articles, which brought him problems not only with Franco’s regime but also with some of the mainstream Basque nationalism tendencies, because of his leftist social ideas. Gabriel Aresti was one of the greatest iidols of the modern culture in Basque language (though he always found the sources in the popular culture and the daily talking, opposing to the purists of the language), and as a Member of the Academy of the Basque language, he defended the unified Basque language, which he also used before it was adopted by the Academy in 1968. He founded the publishing house Lur, allowing new authors in the Basque language like Ramon Saizarbitoria, Arantxa Urretabizkaia or Xabier Lete to publish their first works.

Mihai EMINESCU (1850-1889)

Ai Nostri Tineri

Mihai Eminescu -

Ai nostri tineri la Paris învata
La gît cravatei cum se leaga nodul,
S-apoi ni vin de fericesc norodul
Cu chipul lor istet de oaie creata.

La ei îsi casca ochii sai nerodul,
Ca-i vede-n birje rasucind mustata,
Ducînd în dinti tigara lungareata…
Ei toata ziua bat de-a lungul Podul.

Vorbesc pe nas, ca saltimbanci se strîmba:
Stîlpi de bordel, de crîsme, cafenele
Si viata lor nu si-o muncesc — si-o plimba.

S-aceste marfuri fade, usurele,
Ce au uitat pîn’ si a noastra limba,
Pretind a fi pe cerul tarii: stele.

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Mihai Eminescu, Memorial, Paris 5e, Photo Copyright Constantin ROMAN, June 2011

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 teach at home their folk 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

(All rights reserved, copyright, 2011)

Lucian Blaga (1895-1961) Diplomat, Philosopher, Poet,

Playwright, Political Prisoner,

In Marea Trecere – The Great Passage (1924)

1924
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.

* CĂTRE CITITORI  (TO MY READERS)

Aici e casa mea. Dincolo soarele şi grădina cu stupi. Voi treceţi pe drum, vă uitaţi printre gratii de poartă şi aşteptaţi să vorbesc. – De unde să-ncep? Credeţi-mă, credeţi-mă, despre orişice poţi să vorbeşti cât vrei: despre soartă şi despre şarpele binelui, despre arhanghelii cari ară cu plugul grădinile omului, despre cerul spre care creştem, despre ură şi cădere, tristeţe şi răstigniri şi înainte de toate despre marea trecere. Dar cuvintele sunt lacrimile celor ce ar fi voit aşa de mult să plângă şi n-au putut. Amare foarte sunt toate cuvintele, de-aceea – lăsaţi-mă să umblu mut printre voi, să vă ies în cale cu ochii închişi.

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.

TO MY READERS

This is my Home.

Beyond it is the sun and the garden with beehives.

You are passing bye, stranger,

Glancing through the fence, waiting for me to speak:

But where shall I start?

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

——————————————————-

Lucian Blaga (1895, Lancram, Romania-Lancram,Romania1961),

Poet, Philosopher, Political Prisoner

Culture:

“A major Culture is not a multiple of a minor Culture – it is its sublimate .”

(Lucian Blaga, (1895-1961), Philosopher and Poet)

(Reception Speech to the Romanian Academy, 5 June 1937)

Genius:

“It is an accepted fact that the most important and the highest poetical, artistic or philosophical oeuvres of Western Europe do not necessarily belong, from the spiritual point of view, to the most gifted nations. The Germans who produced Goethe or Kant or the English with the genius of Shakespeare do not reach the average level of aptitudes of the French or Italians. From the point of view of a normal spiritual average such comparison would not favour the English or the Germans. The mystery of the birth of such geniuses as Goethe or Shakespeare, within the framework of a spiritual average of little imposing relevance could be possibly explained rather from a stylistic perspective. It follows then, without any doubt that the complexity and the stylistic means of the English and the Germans are superior to those of other peoples, who are perhaps gifted with a greater intelligence, talent and even life environment .”

(Lucian Blaga, (1895-1961), Philosopher and Poet)

(Reception Speech to the Romanian Academy, 5 June 1937)

BIOGRAPHY

If Cioran is considered the contemporary extension of Nietsche, and his thoughts written in French are translated in many languages, Lucian’s Blaga’s works remain highly mystical, close to the primeval myth and to his village roots and sadly very little translated in foreign languages. He is famous for the philosophical concept of the “Mioritic Space” according to which the Romanian psyche is determined by the land of rolling hills and valleys.

Blaga was born the son of an Orthodox priest in a small village of Transylvania. By the time of his maturity his contribution was acknowledged by being elected a Fellow of the Romanian Academy, just before the Second World War. With the advent of Communism in Romania the last two decades of his life were spent in obscurity, interspersed with time in the Communist prisons, where he was reduced to silence and physical incapacity.

Between 1943 and 1946 Blaga published some of his major philosophical works; the “Trilogy of Knowledge,” “The Trilogy of Culture” and the “Trilogy of Values”. Two further titles – the “Cosmogonic Trilogy” and the “Pragmatic Trilogy” respectively had their publication barred by the advent of the Marxist dictatorship. The philosopher was made to renounce, his ideas, under duress. He was dismissed from his Chair of Philosophy at the University of Cluj and compelled to take up a job as librarian. But soon he was forced to renounce even this modest position, as he spent frequent spells in jail as political prisoner.

Lucian Blaga died in 1961, only a few years after he was released from prison.

(Constantin ROMAN: “Voices and Shadows of the Carpathians – An Anthology of Romanian Thought”

copyright 2011 Constantin ROMAN