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Poetry in Translation (XXIX – XXXIII): Flavia TEOC (b. 1971) – Five Poems

May 15th, 2006 · No Comments · PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

(b. 1971)
(English Version by Constantin Roman)


As of today
You are free to go downtown.
The trees’ green tops
Will bend like grass blades
The hot shoulder of the beautiful woman
Is only a passing idol
You, brown hamsters,
You will soon learn this thing
Like all real men do.


De azi
Aveti voie sa iesiti in oras.
Varfurile verzi ale copacilor
Se vor apleca asemeni firului de iarba
Umarul cald al femeii frumoase
E doar un idol de-o clipa
Voi, harciogii bruni
Veti invata acest lucru
Ca toti barbatii adevarati.


The sleepy summer presses in its palm
My old cup of tea
With a chipped rim.
August is almost ancient
With his short-sighted eyes fixed on the hot
Brew, while its thoughts are already chasing
The hunt in the polar plains.
The sleepy summer could hardly
Suppress a yawn, as wide as the Blue
From now on, thinking of herself,
She will be less talkative.


Somnoroasa vara strange-n palme
Ceasca mea de ceai
Cu buza plesnita.
August e aproape batran
Si-a fixat ochii miopi in licoarea
Fierbinte, dar gandul lui a inceput
Vanatoarea la poluri.
Somnoroasa vara abia si-a
Oprit un cascat, mare cat golful
Vorbind despre sine, de-acum
N-o sa mai fie atat de guraliva.


It’s nine o’clock
The well-fed cat will fall asleep
Under the red sun.

Afternoon is a fragile realm
The block of butter is melting
In the hot pan.

At seven in the evening, I will bathe
In the pool of my chest my heavy face
Sulphur-like flaxen, lone as the mist.

At ten I say my prayers.
But till tomorrow
All will be forsaken.


Se face ora noua
O felina satula va atipi
Sub soarele rosu.

Dupa-amiaza e un taram plapand
Bucata de unt se topeste
În tigaia fierbinte

La sapte seara imbaiez fata
Plumbuita în cosul pieptului meu
Balaie ca sulful, singura ca aburul lui

La ora zece spun rugaciunile.
Dar pana maine
Toate astea uitate vor fi.


I wanted to press against my chest
This handful of hot sawdust
With it, the cedar woods
Would throb
Like a poisoned wild boar.

You were longing for this ultimate female, this green
Field inhabited by a tribe
In peace with us all.
We were not
Of the same race.

The city gardens, dignified
Like a shack in bloom
Ought to have at least
Got one vote. But it could not care less.
This was to be.


Vroiam sa strang la piept
Un pumn de rumegus cald
Si-n el, padurea de cedri
Ca un mistret otravit.

Vroiai o femeie nesfarsita, o intindere
Verde gazduind un trib
Impacat cu toata lumea.
Nu eram
Din acelasi neam.

Parcul orasului, nobil cat o
Dugheana infrunzita
Ar fi putut sa aiba si el
Un vot. Dar nu i-a pasat
Atat a fost tot.

Or About the Poet’s Body

A whole corn field
Will come through the door
You, with a melancholy face,
Will smile at the shiny button which fastens
The dress.

A small flag will hoist itself boldly
From the carefully pleated bun
It’s still young and will not yield easily
Without a brief fight..

At the bossom
An old lilac would nestle
Like in a collapsed
Silver mine.

And you are writing your diary, with soft movements
Swimming in a green sea conquered
A long time ago.

sau despre trupul poetului

I?i va intra pe usa un lan de porumb
Tu, melancolic cum esti,
Vei surade nasturelui chilug care-i incheie

Un steag va flutura indraznet
Din cocul bine impletit
E inca tanar, si n-are de gand sa se predea
Fara o scurta incaierare.

In piept
Un liliac batran sta cuibarit
Ca intr-o mina de argint

Si tu scrii in jurnal, cu gesturi moi
Inotand, pe o mare verzuie
Demult cucerita.

( Romanian version by
Constantin ROMAN
London, May 2006)
Flavia TEOC (b. 1971) is a Philosophy graduate, poet, journalist and broadcaster, who poublished several anthologies of verse and prose. Flavia lives in Cluj and her family has its roots in the Transylvanian Alps, among the Dacian descendants of the Motz Country with centuries-old traditions of fighting for their freedoms.

Constantin ROMAN is a Geophysicist, born in a town on the Lower Danube Valley and living in England since 1968. His literary debut goes back to his student days in Bucharest, Newcastle and Cambridge. Other than his articles and books on Science and Humanities he has translated Romanian, French, English, Canadian, Polish, Basque and Arabic poets.


Read more about  Romanian Poets & Writers in:

Blouse Roumaine – The Unsung Voices of Romanian Women

(Centre for Romanian Studies, London, 2009)

(1,100 pages, 160 Biographies, 600 quotations)


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