translated English-Romanian

My Life had stood – a Loaded Gun / Viata-mi statu – ‘ncarcat pistol

POSTED IN classic poetry, translated English-Romanian April 15, 2019

gu

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Life had stood – a Loaded Gun / Viata-mi statu – ‘ncarcat pistol
 

 

My Life had stood – a Loaded Gun –
In Corners – till a Day
The Owner passed – identified –
And carried Me away –
 

 

And now We roam in Sovreign Woods –
And now We hunt the Doe –
And every time I speak for Him
The Mountains straight reply –
 

 

And do I smile, such cordial light
Opon the Valley glow –
It is as a Vesuvian face
Had let it’s pleasure through –
 

 

And when at Night – Our good Day done –
I guard My Master’s Head –
’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s
Deep Pillow – to have shared –
 

 

To foe of His – I’m deadly foe –
None stir the second time –
On whom I lay a Yellow Eye –
Or an emphatic Thumb –
 

 

Though I than He – may longer live
He longer must – than I –
For I have but the power to kill,
Without – the power to die –
 

 

EMILY DICKINSON
———————————

Viata-mi statu – ‘ncarcat pistol
 

 

Viata-mi statu – ‘ncarcat pistol
In colt – pan-ntr-o zi –
Cand posesorul – cel stiut –
Ca sa ma ia veni –
 

 

Si hoinarim prin mari paduri –
Caprioara vanand –
Si oricand pentru el vorbesc
Muntii ecou raspund –
 

 

Si cand zambesc, scantei lumina
Peste vale luceste –
Precum o fata vezuviana
Placerea-si domoleste –
 

 

Si-n Noapte, cand – satisfacuti –
Pazesc Stapanu-mi inca –
Mai bine ‘cat sa-mpartasim
O perna moale, -adanca –
 

 

Dusmanul lui – e-al meu dusman
unu-nu mai misca – moare –
pe cine pun un lucind Ochi –
Ori degetu-mi cel mare –
 

 

Desi eu oi trai mai lung
El trebuie-a trai –
Eu-am doar puterea sa ucid,
Fara-a putea muri –

 

Maria Magdalena

Her smile was shaped like other smiles—/ Surasu-i ca altele era—

POSTED IN classic poetry, translated English-Romanian April 14, 2019

emily

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her smile was shaped like other smiles—/ Surasu-i ca altele era—

Her smile was shaped like other smiles—
The Dimples ran along—
And still it hurt you, as some Bird
Did hoist herself, to sing,
Then recollect a Ball, she got—
And hold upon the Twig,
Convulsive, while the Music broke—
Like Beads—among the Bog –

A happy lip—breaks sudden—
It doesn’t state you how
It contemplated—smiling—
Just consummated—now –
But this one, wears its merriment
So patient—like a pain—
Fresh gilded—to elude the eyes
Unqualified, to scan—

EMILY DICKINSON
——————————–
Surasu-i ca altele era—

Surasu-i ca altele era—
Gropitele-i zambind –
si totusi te-a ranit precum
O pasarea cantand,
care un glont in piept primi-
Si Crenguta strangand,
brusc, pe cand cantul ii pieri-
ca-n mlastina matanii.

O buza se-ntristeaza-
Nu spune ce si cum
Contemplatul zambet-
e consumat acum-
Acesta-si poarta rasul
rabdator – ca durerea –
o masca – spre-a scapa de ochii
ce nu merita vederea –

Maria Magdalena

What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, And Where, And Why / Ce buze buzele imi sarutara

POSTED IN classic poetry, translated English-Romanian April 13, 2019

kiss
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, And Where, And Why / Ce buze buzele imi sarutara

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh

Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.

Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:

I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

—————————–
Ce buze buzele imi sarutara
Ce buze buzele imi sarutara
si ce brate-au stiut sa ma alinte
unde, de ce, nu-mi mai aduc aminte
in noapte ploaia oftand ma-nfioara.

Fantome-mi bat in geam iara si iara
Si-n inim-o durere stins s-aprinde
Caci n-or mai veni flacai ca-nainte
La miez de noapte sa planga pe-afara.

Asa, in iarna, singur sta copacul,
Nestiind unde-si fac pasar’le placul
Cu crengi tot mai tacute ca-nainte

Nici eu nu stiu iubirea pleaca, vine
Stiu doar ca vara ce-a cantat in mine
doar pentru-o clipa, n-are sa mai cante.

Maria Magdalena

Eating Poetry / Mancand Poezie

POSTED IN classic poetry, translated English-Romanian April 12, 2019

ea

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eating Poetry / Mancand Poezie

 

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.

The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.

The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.

Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.

She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.

I am a new man.
I snarl at her and bark.
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.

MARK STRAND

————————————-
Mancand poezie

Cerneala-mi curge pe la colturile gurii
Nu exista fericire ca a mea.
Am mancat poezie.

Biblitecara nu crede ceea ce vede.
Ochii ei sunt tristi.
si ea merge cu mainile-n rochie.

Poemele-s duse.
Lumina-i vaga.
Cainii sunt pe scarile subsolului si vin sus.

Pupilele lor se rotesc,
picioarele lor blonde ard precum o perie.
Sarmana bibliotecara incepe a-si sterge picioarele si plange.

Ea nu-ntelege.
cand ma asez in genunchi si ii ling mana,
ea tipa.

Sunt un om nou.
Marai la ea si latru.
Zburd bucuros in bezna livresca.

Maria Magdalena

The End / Sfarsit

POSTED IN classic poetry, translated English-Romanian April 9, 2019

death

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The End / Sfarsit

Not every man knows what he shall sing at the end,
Watching the pier as the ship sails away, or what it will seem like
When he’s held by the sea’s roar, motionless, there at the end,
Or what he shall hope for once it is clear that he’ll never go back.

When the time has passed to prune the rose or caress the cat,
When the sunset torching the lawn and the full moon icing it down
No longer appear, not every man knows what he’ll discover instead.
When the weight of the past leans against nothing, and the sky

Is no more than remembered light, and the stories of cirrus
And cumulus come to a close, and all the birds are suspended in flight,
Not every man knows what is waiting for him, or what he shall sing
When the ship he is on slips into darkness, there at the end.

MARK STRAND
——————————————–
Sfarsit

Nu tot omul stie ce va canta la sfarsit,
Privind tarmul pe cand nava se-ndeparteaza, ori cum va fi
Cand va fi-mbratisat de vuietul marii, nemiscat, acolo la capat.
Ori ce-ar mai spera cand va fi clar ca nu se va mai intoarce.

Cad va fi trecut timpul sa curete trandafirul ori sa mangaie pisica,
Cand apusul incendiind iarba si luna plina inghetand-o
Nu mai apar, nu tot omul stie ce va descoperi in loc.
Cand greutatea trecutului se sprijină pe nimic, si cerul

Nu mai este decat o lumina amintire, si povestile despre cirrus
Si cumulus se sfarsesc, si toate pasarile sunt nemiscate in zbor
Nu tot omul stie ce-l asteapta, ori ce-ar trebui sa cante
Cand nava pe care este aluneca in intuneric, acolo la capat.

Maria Magdalena

SOLITUDE / SINGURATATE

POSTED IN classic poetry, translated English-Romanian April 6, 2019

x

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SOLITUDE / SINGURATATE

 

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air;
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go;
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all,—
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life’s gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a large and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX
……………………
SINGURATATE

Razi, si lumea cu tine va rade ;
Plangi si singur vei plange;
Caci tristul pamant ras imprumutand,
Necazul si pe el il ajunge.
Canta, si colinele-or raspunde;
Ofteaza si-i in aer pierdut;
Ecouri raspund unui raset profund,
Insa la necaz au tacut.

Fii vesel, si lumea te cata,
Fii trist, ei se-ntorc si dispar ;
Ei vor participa la fericirea ta,
Insa n-au treaba cu-al tau amar.
Razi, si prieteni sunt multi;
Fii trist, si cu totii vor piere,-
Nu-i unul sa refuze vinu-ti nectar pe buze,
Insa singur vei bea-a lumii fiere.
Petrece, si casa ti-e plina;
Posteste, si lumea-i trecuta.
Parvine si daruie, si viata te-nvaluie
Insa nimeni cand mori nu te-ajuta.
Pentru-un tren larg si arogant,
Este loc in sala placerii
Insa unul cate unu toti tre’ sa facem drumu’
Prin colturile-nguste ale durerii.

 

Maria Magdalena

Spring is like a perhaps hand / Primavara este precum o mana poate

POSTED IN classic poetry, translated English-Romanian April 6, 2019

spring

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spring is like a perhaps hand / Primavara este precum o mana poate

Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
a window,into which people look (while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here) and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and fro moving New and
Old things,while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there)and

without breaking anything.
e.e.cummings
————————————-
Primavara este precum o mana

Primavara este precum o mana poate
(care vine cu grija
deodata) aranjand
a window,into which people look(while
o fereastra, prin care oamenii privesc (in timp ce
oamenii privesc fix
aranjand si schimband asezand
cu grija ici un lucru ciudat
dincoace un lucru stiut) si
schimband totul cu grija
primavara este precum o poate
mana in fereastra
( grijulie incoace
si incolo miscand lucruri Noi si
Vechi, in timp ce
oamenii privesc fix cu grija
mutand o poate
fractiune de floare ici asezand
o frantura de aer dincolo) si
fara sa sparga nimic.

Maria Magdalena

A Valediction / Un adio

POSTED IN classic poetry, translated English-Romanian March 30, 2019

mana

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Valediction / Un adio

If we must part,
Then let it be like this.
Not heart on heart,
Nor with the useless anguish of a kiss;
But touch mine hand and say:
“Until to-morrow or some other day,
If we must part”.

Words are so weak
When love hath been so strong;
Let silence speak:
“Life is a little while, and love is long;
A time to sow and reap,
And after harvest a long time to sleep,
But words are weak.”

 

Ernest Christopher Dowson
——————————
Un adio

De-o fi sa pleci
Atunci sa fie-asa.
Nu-n inimi deci,
Nici inutilul chin de-a saruta ;
Atinge-mi mana doar si zi-mi deodata;
“Pe maine sau poate pe alta data,
De-o fi sa pleci”

Vorba apune
Cand dragoste avu asa putere ;
Tacerea spune:
“dragostea-i lunga, viata-i o parere
un timp spre-a semana si a cosi,
dupa recolta lung timp spre-a dormi.”

Vorba apune.

 

Maria Magdalena

i love you much(most beautiful darling) / te iubesc mult (draga mea cea mai frumoasa)

POSTED IN classic poetry, translated English-Romanian March 27, 2019

op

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

i love you much(most beautiful darling)

 

i love you much(most beautiful darling)

more than anyone on the earth and i
like you better than everything in the sky

-sunlight and singing welcome your coming

although winter may be everywhere
with such a silence and such a darkness
noone can quite begin to guess

(except my life)the true time of year-

and if what calls itself a world should have
the luck to hear such singing(or glimpse such
sunlight as will leap higher than high
through gayer than gayest someone’s heart at your each

nearness)everyone certainly would(my
most beautiful darling)believe in nothing but love

 

e.e. cummings

——————————————
te iubesc mult (draga mea cea mai frumoasa)

 

te iubesc mult (draga cea mai frumoasa)
mai mult decât oricine pe pamânt si
imi placi mult mai mult decat totul din cer

-lumina soarelui si cantatul intampina sosirea-ti

desi iarna poate fi peste tot
cu o astfel de tacere si un asemenea întuneric
nimeni nu poate macar incepe sa ghiceasca

(cu exceptia vietii mele) timpul adevarat al anului –

si daca ceea ce se numeste o lume ar avea
norocul sa auda astfel de canturi ( ori sa zareasca
asa lumina pe cand ar sari mai inalt decat inaltul
prin inima cuiva mai vesela decat cea mai vesela la fiece

apropiere a ta) toti cu siguranta ar face-o
(draga mea cea ma frumoasa) sa crezi doar in iubire

 

Maria Magdalena

somewhere i have never travelled / undeva unde n-am calatorit niciodata

POSTED IN classic poetry, translated English-Romanian March 22, 2019

n

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

somewhere i have never travelled /
undeva unde n-am calatorit niciodata

 

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

e. e. cummings

……………………………………………..

undeva unde n-am calatorit niciodata

undeva unde n-am calatorit niciodata, bucuros dincolo
de orice experienta, ochii tai au tacerea lor:
in gestul tau cel mai fragil sunt lucruri care ma include,
ori pe care nu le pot atinge deoarece sunt prea aproape

privirea ta cea mai mica ma include cu usurinta
desi m-am inchis precum degetele,
tu ma deschizi mereu petala cu petala precum Primavara deschide
(atingand abil, misterios ) primul sau trandafir

sau daca vrei sa ma inchizi, eu si
viata mea ne-om inchide foarte frumos, brusc
ca atunci când inima acestei flori își imaginează
zapada cazand cu grija peste tot;

nimic din ceea ce noi trebuie sa percepem in aceasta lume egaleaza
puterea intensei tale fragilitati: a carei textura
mă obligă cu culoarea țărilor sale
traducand moartea și pentru totdeauna cu fiecare respirație

(nu știu ce este despre tine care închide
si deschide; doar ceva in mine intelege
vocea ochilor tai este mai adanca decat toti trandafirii)
nimeni, nici chiar ploaia, nu are maini asa mici

 

Maria Magdalena

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