Mistretul cu colti de argint / The boar with silver fangs

POSTED IN classic poetry, translated Romanian-English June 9, 2017

Aulanko 190

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mistretul cu colti de argint / The boar with silver fangs

 

Un prinţ din Levant îndrăgind vânătoarea
prin inimă neagră de codru trecea.
Croindu-şi cu greu prin haţişuri cărarea,
cântă dintr-un flaut de os şi zicea:

– Veniţi să vânăm în păduri nepătrunse
mistreţul cu colţi de argint, fioros,
ce zilnic îşi schimbă în scorburi ascunse
copita şi blana şi ochiul sticlos…

– Stăpâne, ziceau servitorii cu goarne,
mistreţul acela nu vine pe-aici.
Mai bine s-abatem vânatul cu coarne,
ori vulpile roşii, ori iepurii mici …

Dar prinţul trecea zâmbitor înainte
privea printre arbori atent la culori,
lăsând în culcuş căprioara cuminte
şi linxul ce râde cu ochi sclipitori.

Sub fagi el dădea buruiana-ntr-o parte:
– Priviţi cum se-nvârte făcându-ne semn
mistreţul cu colţi de argint, nu departe:
veniţi să-l lovim cu săgeată de lemn!…

– Stăpâne, e apa jucând sub copaci,
zicea servitorul privindu-l isteţ.
Dar el răspundea întorcându-se: – Taci…
Şi apa sclipea ca un colţ de mistreţ.

Sub ulmi, el zorea risipite alaiuri:
– Priviţi cum pufneşte şi scurmă stingher,
mistreţul cu colţi de argint, peste plaiuri:
veniţi să-l lovim cu săgeată de fier!…

– Stăpâne, e iarba foşnind sub copaci,
zicea servitorul zâmbind îndrăzneţ.
Dar el răspundea întorcându-se: – Taci…
Şi iarba sclipea ca un colţ de mistreţ.

Sub brazi, el strigă îndemnându-i spre creste:
– Priviţi unde-şi află odihnă şi loc
mistreţul cu colţi de argint, din poveste:
veniţi să-l lovim cu săgeată de foc!…

– Stăpâne, e luna lucind prin copaci,
zicea servitorul râzând cu dispreţ.
Dar el răspunde întorcându-se: – Taci…
Şi luna sclipea ca un colţ de mistreţ.

Dar vai! sub luceferii palizi ai bolţii
cum stă în amurg, la izvor aplecat,
veni un mistreţ uriaş, şi cu colţii
îl trase sălbatic prin colbul roşcat.

– Ce fiară ciudată mă umple de sânge,
oprind vânătoarea mistreţului meu?
Ce pasăre neagră stă-n lună şi plânge?
Ce veştedă frunză mă bate mereu?…

– Stăpâne, mistreţul cu colţi ca argintul,
chiar el te-a cuprins, grohăind, sub copaci.
Ascultă cum latră copoii gonindu-l…
Dar prinţul răspunse-ntorcându-se. – Taci.

Mai bine ia cornul şi sună întruna.
Să suni până mor, către cerul senin…
Atunci asfinţi după creste luna
şi cornul sună, însă foarte puţin.

 

Stefan Augustin Doinas
………………………………………………………………………………………….
The boar with silver fangs
A Prince from Levant who deeply loved hunting
was passing the dark forest’s heart with folie,
For finding his path through the bushes hard fighting,
was playing his bone flute and said lively:

– Let’s go for the hunt in the deep wilderness
the hunt of the wild boar with silvery fangs,
who daily is shedding in hollowy stilness
the hoof and the fur and his glimmering glance…

– Mylord, said the servants with horn howling feelings,
That boar, which you want, won’t be coming this way.
Let’s rather go hunting the horn headed beings,
or red coated foxes, or small hares astray…

But the Prince passed on smiling pursuing his road
contemplating in silence the colourful trees,
he paid no attention to the kind doe’s abode
nor to lynx always smiling with bright eyes at ease.

Beneath the tall beeches he passed branches taming:
– Behold how he’s spinning our distance to narrow
the silver fang boar not too far from our aiming
let’s hit him at once with one strike wooden arrow!…

– Mylord, is the water under the foliage lush,
said shrewdly the servant with a voice like a clang
But he turned and he answered kindly: – Hush..
and the water was shining like a boar silver fang.

Beneath elms he was hurrying the scattered cortege,
– Behold how he’s roaring and grubbing his marrow:
the silver fang boar not too far from our edge
let’s hit him at once with one strike iron arrow!…

– Mylord, is the grass quivering in a rush,
said daring the servant with a smile like a clang.
But he turned and he answered kindly: – Hush…
and the grass was shining like a boar silver fang.

Beneath firs he was shouting urging them to the crest.
-Behold where it is his place to retire
the boar silver fang from the tales I possessed:
let’s hit him at once with a strike fire arrow!…

– Mylord, is the Moon shimmering in a gush
said with spurn the servant with a laugh like a clang.
But he turned and he answered kindly: – Hush…
and the moon was shining like a boar silver fang.

Alas ! while the pale stars on heaven all sang
As he bent over water while the sun set he must
appeared a gigantic wild boar and his fang
ripped him wildly through the red bloody dust.

-What strange beast attacks me and let’s me for bleeding
and stops  without mercy my boar silver’s hunt?
What dark bird in moonlight is crying my pleading?
What dead leaf, unseen leaf is beating me blunt?…

– Mylord, the boar with the fangs like the silver
himself  roaring took you under trees for the smash
You can hear the bark of bloodhounds with a quiver…
But the Prince turned and he answered kindly: – Hush…

Better take the horn and ceaselessly blow it,
and blow ‘till my death to the heavenly plead…
Then the moon disappeared slowly from its moonlit
and the hunt horn was blowing, but too little indeed.

 

English version, Maria Magdalena Biela

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