May, 2018

No Ordinary LoveI gave you all the love I got
I gave you more than I could give
I gave you love
I gave you all that I have inside
And you took my love
You took my love
Didn’t I tell you
What I believe
Did somebody say that
A love like that won’t last
Didn’t I give you
All that I’ve got to, give baby
I gave you all the love I got
I gave you more than I could give
I gave you love
I gave you all that I have inside
And you took my love
You took my love
I keep crying
I keep trying for you
There’s nothing like you and I baby
This is no ordinary love
No ordinary love
This is no ordinary love
No ordinary love
When you came my way
You brightened every day
With your sweet smile
Didn’t I tell you
What I believe
Did somebody say that
A love like that won’t last
Didn’t I give you
All that I’ve got to, give baby
This is no ordinary love
No ordinary love
This is no ordinary love
No ordinary love
I keep crying
I keep trying for you
There’s nothing like you and I baby
This is no ordinary love
No ordinary love
This is no ordinary love
No ordinary love
Keep trying for you
Keep crying for you
Keep flying for you
Flying, falling
Falling
Keep trying for you
Keep crying for you
Keep flying for you
Flying, falling
Falling

Sade

Joskus / Candva / Sometimes

POSTED IN translated Finnish-English, translated Finnish-Romanian May 8, 2018

Puhu minulle rakkaudesta / Talk to me about love

POSTED IN translated English-Romanian, translated Finnish-English May 7, 2018

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Puhu minulle rakkaudesta

Puhu minulle rakkaudesta:
sanoja jotka on monesti kuultu ja nähty,
sanoja joita on sanottu mitään tarkoittamatta,
kuluneita, käytettyjä sanoja, halpoja, kevyesti annetuja,
sanoja vailla mitään uutta.
Puhu minulle rakaudesta.
Sinun huuliltasi
sanat juovat itsensä raikkaiksi.
Jaakko Hämeen Anttila
………………………………………..
Vorbeste-mi despre dragoste:
cuvinte care de multe ori au fost auzite si vazute,
cuvinte care a fost spuse fara a insemna nimic,
cuvinte obosite, folosite, ieftine, cu usurinta date,
cuvinte fara nimic nou.

Vorbeste-mi despre dragoste.
De pe buzele tale
cuvintele beau prospetimea.
………………………………..
Talk to me about love:
words which were so many times heard and seen,
words that have been said meaning nothing,
worn out, used words, cheap, lightly given,
words without anything new.
Talk to me about love.
From your lips
words drink themselves into freshness.
Romanian and English version, Maria Magdalena Biela

Rakkautta Helsingissä / Dragoste in Helsinki / Love in Helsinki

POSTED IN contemporary poetry, Spring, translated Finnish-English, translated Finnish-Romanian May 7, 2018

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rakkautta Helsingissä

Rakas,
mennään jonnekin missä
kukaan ei heittele meitä kuoleilla kaloilla.

Suudellaan kääpiötaatelipalmun katveessa
ja kerrostalojen katoilla.

Kaupunki avaa ovensa meille,
näyttää paikoja, joita me emme tunteneet,
joissa me olemme onnellisia.

Mennään siis sinne missä
kukaan ei heittele meitä kuoleilla kaloilla.
Jaakko Hämeen Anttila
…………………………………..
Iubite,
hai sa mergem undeva
unde nimeni nu arunca cu pesti morti in noi.

Sa ne sarutam la umbra curmalului
si pe acoperisurile blocurilor.

Orasul isi deschide usa pentru noi,
ne arata locuri, pe care nu le-am cunoscut,
unde suntem fericiti.

Sa mergem deci acolo unde
unde nimeni nu arunca cu pesti morti in noi.
……………………………..
Beloved,
let’s go there where
nobody throws dead fish at us.

Let’s kiss in the shade of the date palm
and on the roof of the flats.

The city opens its door to us,
shows us places which we didn’t know,
where we are happy.

so let’s go there
where nobody throws dead fish at us.
Romanian and English version,

Maria Magdalena Biela

La lluvia / The Rain

POSTED IN classic poetry, Spring, translated Spanish-English May 4, 2018

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

La lluvia / The Rain

 

La lluvia tiene un vago secreto de ternura,
algo de somnolencia resignada y amable,
una música humilde se despierta con ella
que hace vibrar el alma dormida del paisaje.

Es un besar azul que recibe la Tierra,
el mito primitivo que vuelve a realizarse.
El contacto ya frío de cielo y tierra viejos
con una mansedumbre de atardecer constante.

Es la aurora del fruto. La que nos trae las flores
y nos unge de espíritu santo de los mares.
La que derrama vida sobre las sementeras
y en el alma tristeza de lo que no se sabe.

La nostalgia terrible de una vida perdida,
el fatal sentimiento de haber nacido tarde,
o la ilusión inquieta de un mañana imposible
con la inquietud cercana del color de la carne.

El amor se despierta en el gris de su ritmo,
nuestro cielo interior tiene un triunfo de sangre,
pero nuestro optimismo se convierte en tristeza
al contemplar las gotas muertas en los cristales.

Y son las gotas: ojos de infinito que miran
al infinito blanco que les sirvió de madre.

Cada gota de lluvia tiembla en el cristal turbio
y le dejan divinas heridas de diamante.
Son poetas del agua que han visto y que meditan
lo que la muchedumbre de los ríos no sabe.

¡Oh lluvia silenciosa, sin tormentas ni vientos,
lluvia mansa y serena de esquila y luz suave,
lluvia buena y pacifica que eres la verdadera,
la que llorosa y triste sobre las cosas caes!

¡Oh lluvia franciscana que llevas a tus gotas
almas de fuentes claras y humildes manantiales!
Cuando sobre los campos desciendes lentamente
las rosas de mi pecho con tus sonidos abres.

El canto primitivo que dices al silencio
y la historia sonora que cuentas al ramaje
los comenta llorando mi corazón desierto
en un negro y profundo pentágrama sin clave.

Mi alma tiene tristeza de la lluvia serena,
tristeza resignada de cosa irrealizable,
tengo en el horizonte un lucero encendido
y el corazón me impide que corra a contemplarte.

¡Oh lluvia silenciosa que los árboles aman
y eres sobre el piano dulzura emocionante;
das al alma las mismas nieblas y resonancias.

Federico Garcia Lorca
……………………………………………………………………………
THE RAIN

The rain has a vague secret of tenderness,
some resigned and kind drowsiness,
a humble music wakes up with her
that makes the sleeping soul of the landscape vibrate.

It’s a blue kiss that Earth receives,
the primitive myth that returns to be realized.
The already cold contact of old heaven and earth
with a meekness of a constant sunset.

It’s the aurora of the fruit. The one that brings us the flowers
and anoints us with the holy spirit of the seas.
The one that spills life on the sowings
and in the soul sadness of what is not known.

The terrible nostalgia of a lost life,
the fatal feeling of being born late,
or the restless illusion of an impossible tomorrow
with the inquietude close to the color of the flesh.

Love wakes up in the gray of its rhythm,
our inner heaven has a triumph of blood,
but our optimism turns to sadness
when contemplating the drops dead in the crystals.

And they are the drops: eyes of infinity that look
to the white infinity that served as their mother.

Every drop of rain trembles in the cloudy crystal
and leave you divine diamond wounds.
They are poets of water who have seen and who meditate
what the crowd of the rivers does not know.

¡Oh silent rain, without storms or winds,
gentle and serene rain of shearing and soft light,
good and peaceful rain that you are the true one,
the one that tearful and sad about things you fall!

¡Oh Franciscan rain that you take to your drops
souls from clear sources and humble springs!
When on the fields you descend slowly
the roses of my chest with your sounds open.

The primitive song that you say to silence
and the sound story that you tell the branches
tells them crying my desolate heart
in a black and deep pentagram without a key.

My soul has the sadness of the serene rain,
the resigned sadness of helplessness
I have a lighted star on the horizon
and my heart stops me from running to look at you.

¡Oh silent rain that the trees love
and you are on the piano exciting sweetness;
give to the soul the same mists and resonances

 

English version, Maria Magdalena Biela

La Vendimia / The Harvest

POSTED IN classic poetry, Spring, translated Spanish-English May 4, 2018

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

La Vendimia / The Harvest

En un campo árido, reseco, muerto
puse gotas de ilusiones para regar
esforzando los corazones y cuerpos
hasta poder nuestro amor cosechar.

En el mercado de corazones
fui una vez a participar en subasta,
aposte allí todas mis ilusiones
y llegué a tu amor de manera exacta.

El amor recién descubierto
he guardado como tesoro
en el pecho, para ti abierto
como cofrecito color de oro
Embargado de dicha, pleno
te confieso mi sentimiento
de amor limpio y sereno
en el alma y pensamiento
a pesar de mi pobreza
te ofrezco mi único tesoro
lleno de amor con realeza
El cofrecito color de oro

Recolectando,
mis ilusiones
guarde mis ansias
por encontrarte;
y en la subasta de
mis tristezas
encontre los frutos
de nuestro amor

La Vendimia que hoy honramos
a fuerza de amor y dulzura,
recoge el verde de las uvas
en las mieles del te quiero.
La tierra fértil abonadas con amor
ha sembrado con las aguas de pasión
que han sido fecundadas con fuego
que ha cosechado el corazón.

Entonces todo las pasiones entregadas
hicieron suma para la tierra abonarla
con semillas puras de amor endulzadas
consagrando un planta para adorarla.

Subaste mi amor con tus besos
los cuales siempre me diste
te entregue mi amor por completo
sin pensar que serias mi comprador absoluto.

nuestro amor es dulce como la uva madura, que se recoge y con la cual se hace el mejor vino, nuestra relacion fue cosechada en el mejor tiempo, nuestro amor da muchos frutos por la intensidad con que nos amamos.

Ha concluido el esfuerzo de ambos
la consagración nos ha premiado
la vendimia del amor demostrado
resulto el eden hilando nuestro lazos.

Vito Angeli
……………………………………………….

The Harvest

In an arid, parched, dead field
I put drops of illusions to water
straining hearts and bodies
until our love can harvest.

In the market of hearts
I went once to participate in auction,
bet there all my illusions
and I got to your love exactly.

The newly discovered love
I have saved as treasure
in the chest, for you open
as a gold colored casket
Embargoed of happiness, fully
I confess my feeling
of clean and serene love
in the soul and thought
despite my poverty
I offer you my only treasure
full of love with royalty
The gold-colored casket

Collecting,
My illusions
save my cravings
to find you;
and in the auction of
my sorrows
I found the fruits
of our love

The harvest that we honor today
by force of love and sweetness,
pick up the green of the grapes
in the honey of I love you.
The fertile soil fertilized with love
has sown with the waters of passion
that have been fertilized with fire
who has harvested the heart

Then all the passions delivered
they made money for the land
with pure seeds of sweetness sweetened
consecrating a plant to worship it.

You raised my love with your kisses
which you always gave me
I give you my love completely
without thinking that you would be my absolute buyer.

Our love is sweet like the ripe grape, which is picked and with which the best wine is made, our relationship was harvested at the best time, our love gives many fruits for the intensity with which we love each other.

It’s finished the effort of both
the consecration has rewarded us
the harvest of love demonstrated
the Eden resulted by spinning our ties.

English version, Maria Magdalena Biela

Orange juice

POSTED IN Music May 1, 2018

Filantropica… Orange juice

It all ends up with an orange juice,
as the evening shadows fall,
the bartender looking a bit surprised,
knowing that in that same place
the happier days,
I used to drink whisky,
never sit alone.
Shattered dreams confuse me
sunset mounts in juice
strange all there’s thirst
falling night
smells of blues
Loved that bitch, she left me,
got herself a younger rich orange juice lover,
I spit on his
Harvard style
shiny shoes.
Hey, orange juice kid! Enjoy her poisonous body for me.
Yes, orange juice kids, spend all your money and then you will see
How to you whisky bottle’s screaming
In a crummy low-priced bar,
each crumpled bill sounds like a broken
guitar.
Little jerk
get stoned man
she will ever be your drunkard’s excuse,
I’m sitting close drinking my orange juice.
Hey! Hey, orange juice kid! Enjoy her poisonous body for me.
Yes, orange juice kids, spend all your money and then you will see
whisky bottles screaming in a low-priced bar.
Each crumpled bill sounds like a broken guitar.
Little jerk, little jerk,
get stoned man
she will ever be your drunkard’s excuse,
I’m sitting close drinking my orange juice, orange juice.

Nae Caranfil