translated Finnish-Romanian

Yhä hiljalleen hämärtyvässä maailmassa / Intr-o lume care se intuneca incet incet / In a world still slowly darkening

POSTED IN contemporary poetry, translated Finnish-English, translated Finnish-Romanian January 1, 2026

 

Yhä hiljalleen hämärtyvässä maailmassa / Intr-o lume care se intuneca incet incet / In a world still slowly darkening

Yhä hiljalleen hämärtyvässä maailmassa
jossa lumihiutaleet kuin valaistut leijat
jossa kaltevat pilvet repeilevät matkan painosta
meri on syltynharmaa tyrske, sieltä haetaan aina jotain
kirkkaanvärisin lautoin, suruun opetellen.
Yhä hiljalleen hämärtyvässä maailmassa.
Oli jokin ilta ja elokuvia ulkona ja valoja ja loistavia tuoleja
lampun lasiriekaleet ja kilisevät sydämet, tuulen suuri koneisto
kaikki muuttuu purjeeksi kun tarpeeksi puhaltaa.
Yhä hiljalleen hämärtyvässä maailmassa.
Kuin näkisi esineistä enää varjon
olemuksen jolla ei ole käyttöä
joka on vain pimeän ja valon äänetöntä liikettä
ja pisteiden ja viivojen vimmaa muodosta pois:
punainen kannu hajoaa, nimi katoaa
sormilla värähtelevät mustelmat
ovat enemmän totta kuin sormet.

Yhä hiljalleen hämärtyvässä maailmassa
rävähtää syksyn keltainen lakana,
kaislojen himmenevät heilurit vasten veden teräsvaijeria.
Yhä hiljalleen hämärtyvässä maailmassa.
Taivas on oikeastaan sinistä pleksiä
jota sinä pitelet kättesi välissä
ja kyllästyttyäsi päästät otteen
ja pingotettu muovi väpättää tiehensä.
Ja onko tuo taivaansininen pallo vai maisemassa reikä
kaikki muistuttaa toisesta
sillä tavoin olen avain kipuusi, tai ehkä ohimennen jää mykistää meidät.

Yhä hiljalleen hämärtyvässä maailmassa
lyön pääni hanaan ja seiniin ja kulmiin
jotta se mikä minussa on tiellä aina
väistyy eikä tule takaisin.
Suojatien vilkkuvat vastakohdat.
Ja kaduilla syksyn värit, pimeän, raudan ja ysköksien:
eikö tuo tyttö näe
hänen puseronsa on mustelmilla hänen mekkonsa valuu verta.

Jos ei edes menetys pidä meistä kiinni
kuka pitäisi

yhä hiljalleen hämärtyvässä maailmassa.
Tuuli henkii hopeakuulia kuperassa yössä
höyhenkorkeassa yössä
tuijotan liikennevaloon joka välkkyy keltaista. Kerro valo.
Tarkoittaako tämä lähtöä vai pysähdystä
hätäisiä muistoja auringosta
vesiä lainehtivalla kadulla
sade jota kutsut mustaksi näkyy läpi
niin kaikki mikä todella tekee kipeää.

Kun aukeava ovi repäisee kädestä nahan
Yhä hiljalleen hämärtyvässä maailmassa.
Kun lauseet ja merkitys katoavat
ja väreily on liikettä joka ei tiedä suuntaansa
ilmaa haukkovissa liekeissä, taivaanrajan mustuneissa pilvissä
katujen enteilevässä hiljaisuudessa ja tuulisten peltojen
putoavien koneiden uumenissa
maailmanakselin natisevassa liikkeessä
kylmettyneiden tähtien kierrossa
käteen putoavassa lumihiutaleessa

yhä hiljalleen, yhä hiljalleen

Saila SUSILUOTO

……………..

INTR-O LUME CARE SE INTUNECA INCET INCET

Într-o lume care se intuneca incet incet
unde fulgii de zăpadă sunt ca niște zmee luminate
si norii înclinați se destrama sub greutatea drumului
marea este o forta cenusie, in care scotocim mereu
lunecand pe plute viu colorate, învățând sa jelim.
Într-o lume care se intuneca încet incet.
A fost o seară si filme in aer liber și lumini și scaune strălucitoare
cioburile de sticlă ale unei lampi și inimi vibrande, marele mecanism al vântului:
totul devine o velă când sufla destul de puternic.
Într-o lume care se intuneca încet incet.
Ca și cum din lucruri n-ar mai ramane decat umbra,
o esenta fara nici un folos
doar mișcarea tăcută a întunericului și a luminii
și frenezia punctelor și liniilor iesind din formă:
ulciorul roșu se sparge, numele dispare
si mult mai reale decât degetele in sine
sunt vânătăile care vibrează pe ele.

Într-o lume care se intuneca încet incet
cearsaful galben al toamnei fâlfâie,
pendulele palide ale stufului profilate pe firul de oțel al apei.
Într-o lume care se intuneca încet incet
cerul este de fapt un plexiglas albastru
pe care îl ții între palme
iar când te saturi de el îi dai drumul
iar plasticul întins falfaie ducandu-se.
Și este oare aceea o sfera albastră ca cerul sau o gaură în peisaj
totul amintește de altcineva
astfel sunt cheia durerii tale, sau poate in treacat, inghetul ne amuteste.

Într-o lume care se intuneca încet incet
ma dau cu capul de robinet, și de pereți, și de colțuri
ca ceea ce îmi stă mereu în cale să se de la o parte
și sa nu mai revina.
Contrastele intermitente al trecerii de pietoni.
Si pe străzi culorile toamnei, ale-ntunericului, fierului și flegmei:
nu vede oare fata aceea
bluza ei e plina de vanatai, rochia ei sangereaza.

Dacă nici măcar pierderea nu ne opreste
atunci cine ar putea

într-o lume care se intuneca încet incet.
Vântul respira margele de argint în noaptea boltita
în noaptea inalta ca o pană
Privesc semaforul care clipește galben. Spune-mi lumina.
Înseamnă asta plecare sau o oprire?
Amintiri grabite ale soarelui
pe strada care unduieste in ape.
ploaia pe care o numești neagră este stravezie
precum tot ceea ce doare cu adevărat.

Când ușa care se deschide smulge pielea din palma
Într-o lume care încă se intuneca încet incet.
Când propozitiile și sensul dispar
și palpairea este o mișcare care nu-si cunoaște direcția
în flăcările agonizand dupa aer, în norii înnegriti ai orizontului
în tăcerea prevestitoare a străzilor, și a câmpurilor bantuite de vânt
în maruntaiele masinilor care se prabusesc
în mișcarea gemanda a axei lumii
în rotația stelelor înghețate
in fulgul de zăpadă care cade în palma

încet incet,
incet încet.

……………………………………

IN A WORLD STILL SLOWLY DARKENING

In a world still slowly darkening
where snowflakes are like illuminated kites,
where slanted clouds tear under the weight of travel,
the sea is a lard-gray surge — something is always sought there,
on brightly colored rafts, learning grief.
In a world still slowly darkening.
There was an evening, outdoor movies, lights, gleaming chairs,
the glass shards of a lamp and clinking hearts, the great machinery of wind:
everything becomes a sail when it is blown hard enough.
In a world still slowly darkening.
As if now one saw only the shadow of things,
an essence with no use,
nothing but the silent motion of dark and light,
the dots and lines frantically slipping out of form:
the red jug shatters, the name disappears,
the vibrating bruises of the fingers
are more real than the fingers themselves.

In a world still slowly darkening
autumn’s yellow sheet bursts open,
the dimming pendulums of reeds against the steel wire of water.
In a world still slowly darkening.
The sky is in fact blue plexiglass
you hold between your hands,
and once you’ve lost your interest you let go,
and the stretched plastic flutters away.
And is that a sky-blue sphere or a hole in the landscape —
everything reminds of the other
in that way I am the key to your pain,
or perhaps, in passing, the cold makes us speechless.

In a world still slowly darkening
I bang my head against the tap, walls, corners,
so that whatever in me always stands in the way
steps aside and does not return.
The flashing opposites of the crosswalk.
And on the streets the colors of autumn: darkness, iron, phlegm.
can’t that girl see —
her blouse is bruised, her dress is bleeding.

If not even loss can hold on to us,
who could,

In a world still slowly darkening.
The wind breathes silver pellets into the domed, feather-light night.
I stare at a traffic light blinking amber. Tell me, light:
does this mean go, or stop?
Hasty memories of the sun
in the water rippling across the street,
the rain you call black is transparent,
so is everything that truly hurts.

When the opening door tears the skin from the hand —
in a world still slowly darkening.
When sentences and meanings vanish
and vibration is motion that knows no direction,
in flames gasping for air, in the blackened clouds of the horizon,
in the ominous silence of streets and the wind-swpt fields,
in the bellies of falling machines,
in the creaking motion of the world’s axis,
in the rotation of frozen stars,
in a snowflake landing into the palm,

still slowly, still slowly.

trad. M. M. Biela

SYDÄMENI LAULU / MY HEART’S SONG / AL INIMII MELE CANTEC

POSTED IN classic poetry, translated Finnish-Romanian October 10, 2025

SYDÄMENI LAULU / MY HEART’S SONG / AL INIMII MELE CANTEC

(romaanista “Seitsemän veljestä”, 1870)

Tuonen lehto, öinen lehto,
siell’ on hieno hietakehto,
sinnepä lapseni saatan.

Siell’ on lapsen lysti olla,
Tuonen herran vainiolla
kaitsea Tuonelan karjaa.

Siell’ on lapsen lysti olla,
illan tullen tuuditella
helmassa Tuonelan immen.

Onpa kullan lysti olla,
kultakehdoss’ kellahdella,
kuullella kehrääjälintuu.

Tuonen viita, rauhan viita!
kaukana on vaino, riita,
kaukana kavala maailma.

Aleksis KIVI

………………….

AL INIMII MELE CANTEC

Al mortii crang, al noptii prag,
acolo-i leagan fin nisipul,
acolo-mi duc copilul drag.

Ferice pentru el sa fie,
pe-al Mortii camp, pastor la Domnul
celor trecuti in vesnicie.

Ferice pentru el sa fie
in faptul serii leganat
de-a Mortii poal-a fecioriei.

Ce fericit va fi cel drag,
cand, leganat de aur leagan,
pasarea noptii-i canta-n prag.

Al Mortii crang ca trupul mumii!
departe e desertaciunea,
departe e tradarea lumii.

………………….

My Heart’s Song

 

Grove of Tuoni, grove of night!
There thy bed of sand is light.
Thither my child I shall lead.

Blessings for him the time yields
shepherd on the Death’s wide fields
tending the flock of the Lord.

Blessings my child will ever know,
Lulled to sleep at evening glow
By the pale maiden of Death.

Surely joy hours will hold,
Lying in thy cot of gold,
Listening the nightjar singing.

Grove of Death be sign of peace!
There all strife and passion cease.
Distant the treacherous world.

trad. M. M. Biela

SUOMENMAA / TARA FINLANDEI

POSTED IN classic poetry, translated Finnish-Romanian October 10, 2020

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SUOMENMAA / TARA FINLANDEI

Maa kunnasten ja laaksojen,
Mi on tuo kaunoinen?
Tuo hohteess’ kesäpäivien,
Tuo loisteess’ pohjan tulien,
Tuo talven, suven ihana,
Mi ompi soma maa?

Siell’ tuhansissa järvissä
Yön tähdet kimmeltää
Ja Kanteleitten pauhina
Siell’ kaikuu ympär’ kallioi’
Ja kultanummen hongat soi:
Se ompi Suomenmaa.

En milloinkaan mä unohtais
Sun lempeet’ taivastas,
En tulta heljän aurinkos,
En kirkast’ kuuta kuusistos,
En kaskiesi savua
Päin pilviin nousevaa.

Ol’ monta näissä laaksoissa
Tok’ aikaa ankaraa,
kun yöseen halla hyyrteinen
Vei vainiomme viljasen;
Mut toivon aamu, toivon työ
Taas poisti hallayön.

Viel’ monta näissä laaksoissa
on käynyt kauhua,
Kun sota surman, kuolon toi
Ja tanner miesten verta joi:
Mut sankarien kunnian
Sai Suomi loistavan.

Nyt ihanainen, kallis maa
On meidän ainiaan;
Tuoss’ aaltoileva peltomme,
Tuoss’ viherjäinen niittymme,
Tuoss’ metsiemme jylhä yö
Ja meriemme vyö!

Tuon lehtimetsän kaikunaa
Mi autuus kuullella,
kun valjetessa aamusen
Siell’ pauhaa torvi paimenen,
Tai koska laulain laaksossa
Käy impi illalla!

Mi autuus helmaas nukkua,
Sä uniemme maa,
Sä kehtomme, sä hautamme,
Sä aina uusi toivomme,
Oi Suomenniemi kaunoinen,
Sä iänkaikkinen!

Aleksis Kivi

……………………………….

TARA FINLANDEI

Ce-ntruchipari de idealuri
e-acest taram cu vai si dealuri?
Cu zori de vara ireala,
cu stralucirea boreala,
cu ierni albastre, veri arzand,
ce nume porti, pamant?

Acolo, in oglinzi de lacuri
stelele stralucesc de veacuri,
acolo, printre stanci, cu jale
rasuna Kantele, pe cale,
si-n camp de aur pini rasuna:
e Finlanda strabuna.

Nicicand sa uit nu as putea
albastru-ti cer, privirea ta,
a soarelui lumina blanda,
sau luna prin molizi lucinda,
sau focul viu, innoitor
‘naltandu-se la nor.

Caci fost-au in acest tinut
vremuri prea grele de trecut,
cand gerul noptii Nordului
furat-a mana campului,
dar truda si credinta-n cer
ucid al noptii ger.

Si multe, groaznice nevoi
s-au abatut in aste vai,
razboiul crud si sangeros
a adapat pamant setos
cu sange de eroi, dar ei
sunt gloria Finlandei.

Acum, taram, minune vie
e-a noastra tara pe vecie,
unde campia unduieste
si lunca verde straluceste,
si noaptea de paduri adanci,
si marile cu stanci.

Rasuna frunza codrului,
ferice-asculti chemarea lui,
cand zori de ziua se destrama,
buciumul de pastor te cheama,
sau cand pe vale vine seara,
cantand merge fecioara.

Sa dorm la tine-n poala iara,
a visurilor noastra tara,
al nostru leagan si mormant,
speranta noua, nou cuvant,
peninsula in cer, ofranda!
Tu, vesnica Finlanda!

in romaneste, Maria Magdalena Biela

Vaalin valta / Puterea de a alege

POSTED IN classic poetry, translated Finnish-Romanian July 6, 2019

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vaalin valta / Puterea de a alege

 

Muilla olkoon vaalin valta,
mull’ ei ollut milloinkaan;
kuljin yltä taikka alta,
itseäni täytin vaan;
minkä tein, mun tehdä täytyi,
mit’ en tehnyt, voinut en;
vihdoin ilta hämärtäytyi,
lankes hetki hiljainen.

Pankaa patsas haudalleni,
kiveen tämä kirjoitus:
”Synkkä niinkuin sydämeni
oli mulle sallimus.
Itse iskin piistä tulta,
sytyin, hehkuin tuokion,
paloi paras laulu multa,
tässä tuhka tumma on.”

Eino Leino

———————–
Puterea de a alege

Poata altii sa aleaga,
eu nicicand nu am putut;
zbor, taras, o viata-ntreaga
doar pe mine m-am nascut;
ce-am facut, a fost porunca,
ce n-am facut, n-am putut;
in sfarsit in mine-i seara,
si-n tacere am cazut.

Pe mormant sa-mi puneti piatra,
si pe ea puneti a scrie:
“Ca si inima-mi amara
mi-a fost soarta pe vecie.
Singur cremenea am ars-o
ca sa luminez o clipa,
mi s-a ars al vietii cantec,
sunt cenusa din aripa”

In romaneste, Maria Magdalena

Mirror / Oglinda

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mirror / Oglinda

A white room and a party going on
and I was standing with some friends
under a large gilt-framed mirror
that tilted slightly forward
over the fireplace.
We were drinking whiskey
and some of us, feeling no pain,
were trying to decide
what precise shade of yellow
the setting sun turned our drinks.
I closed my eyes briefly,
then looked up into the mirror:
a woman in a green dress leaned
against the far wall.
She seemed distracted,
the fingers of one hand
fidgeted with her necklace,
and she was staring into the mirror,
not at me, but past me, into a space
that might be filled by someone
yet to arrive, who at that moment
could be starting the journey
which would lead eventually to her.
Then, suddenly, my friends
said it was time to move on.
This was years ago,
and though I have forgotten
where we went and who we all were,
I still recall that moment of looking up
and seeing the woman stare past me
into a place I could only imagine,
and each time it is with a pang,
as if just then I were stepping
from the depths of the mirror
into that white room, breathless and eager,
only to discover too late
that she is not there.

MARK STRAND
————————————————–
Oglinda

O camera alba si o petrecere continuand
si eu stand in picioare cu cativa prieteni
sub o oglinda mare cu rama aurita
care se inclina usor inainte
peste semineu.
Beam whiskey
si unii dintre noi, nesimtind durere,
incercau sa decida
in ce nuanta precisa de galben
soarele apunand ne colora bautura.
Am inchis ochii scurt timp,
apoi am privit in sus in oglinda:
o femeie in rochie verde se rezema
de peretele departat.
Parea distrasa,
degetele de la o mana
se jucau cu colierul,
si ea privea fix in oglinda,
nu la mine, ci peste mine, intr-un spatiu
ce putea fi umplut de cineva
inca nesosit, care in acel moment
putea sa inceapa calatoria
care l-ar fi dus eventual spre ea.
Apoi, deodata, prietenii mei
au spus ca e timpul sa mergem.
Asta a fost cu ani in urma,
si desi am uitat
unde am mers si cine eram noi toti,
imi amintesc inca acel moment privind in sus
si vazand femeia privind fix peste mine
intr-un loc pe care mi-l puteam doar imagina,
si de fiece data simt o durere,
ca si cum chiar atunci as pasi
din adancurile oglinzii
in acea camera alba, fara suflare si dornic
doar sa descopar prea tarziu
ca ea nu este acolo.

Maria Magdalena

SMÄRTAN / THE PAIN / DUREREA / KIPU

POSTED IN classic poetry, translated Finnish-English, translated Finnish-Romanian April 5, 2019

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SMÄRTAN / THE PAIN / DUREREA / KIPU

 

Lyckan har inga sånger, lyckan har inga tankar, lyckan har ingenting.

Stöt till din lycka att hon går sönder, ty lyckan är ond.

Lyckan kommer sakta med morgonens susning i sovande snår,

lyckan glider undan i lätta molnbilder över djupblå djup,

lyckan är fältet som sover i middagens glöd

eller havets ändlösa vidd under baddet av lodräta strålar,

lyckan är maktlös, hon sover och andas och vet av ingenting…

Känner du smärtan? Hon är stark och stor med hemligt knutna nävar.

Känner du smärtan? Hon är hoppfullt leende med förgråtna ögon.

Smärtan ger oss allt vad vi behöva –

hon ger oss nycklarna till dödens rike,

hon skjuter oss in genom porten, då vi ännu tveka.

Smärtan döper barnen och vakar med modern

och smider alla de gyllene bröllopsringarna.

Smärtan härskar över alla, hon slätar tänkarens panna,

hon fäster smycket kring den åtrådda kvinnans hals,

hon står i dörren när mannen kommer ut från sin älskade…

Vad är det ännu smärtan ger åt sina älsklingar?

Jag vet ej mer.

Hon ger pärlor och blommor, hon ger sånger och drömmar,

hon ger oss tusen kyssar som alla äro tomma,

hon ger den enda kyssen som är verklig.

Hon ger oss våra sällsamma själar och besynnerliga tycken,

hon ger oss alla livets högsta vinster:

kärlek, ensamhet och dödens ansikte.

 

EDITH SÖDERGRAN

 

—————————-

THE PAIN

 

Happiness has no songs, happiness has no thoughts, happiness has nothing.

Smash your happiness until she breaks, for happiness is evil.

Happiness comes slowly in the sleepy sighs of morning bushes

happiness glides away in light clouds over deep blue depths,

happiness is the field that sleeps in the glow of afternoon

or the sea’s endless spirit under the bath of vertical rays,

happiness is powerless, she sleeps and breathes and knows nothing …

Do you feel the pain? she is strong and big with secretly clenched fists.

Do you feel the pain? she is hopefully smiling with weeping eyes.

The pain gives us everything we need –

she gives us the keys to the kingdom of death,

she pushes us through the gate, as we still hesitate.

The pain baptizes the children and awakes with the mother

and forges all the golden wedding rings.

the pain rules over everyone, she caresses the forehead of the thinker,

she fastens the jewelery around the loved woman’s neck,

she stands in the doorway when the man comes out from his beloved …

What else is the pain giving to her loved ones?

I know no more.

She gives beads and flowers, she gives songs and dreams,

she gives us a thousand kisses that are all empty,

she gives the only kiss that is real.

she gives us our rare souls and strange things,

she gives us all the highest benefits of life:

love, loneliness and the face of death.

———————————————-

DUREREA

 

Fericirea nu are cântece, fericirea nu are gânduri, fericirea nu are nimic.

Izbeste fericirea pana se face bucati , căci fericirea este diabolica.

Fericirea vine liniștit in suspinul adormit al tufisurilor diminetii.,

fericirea se îndepărtează în nori ușori peste adâncimile albastre,

fericirea este câmpul care doarme în strălucirea amiezei

sau spiritul infinit al mării scaldata in raze verticale,

fericirea este neputincioasă, ea doarme și respiră și nu știe nimic…

Simți durerea? E puternică și mare, cu pumnii stransi în secret.

Simți durerea? Zâmbește sperand cu ochii umflati de plans.

Durerea ne dă tot ce avem nevoie –

ea ne dă cheile împărăției morții,

ne împinge prin poarta, fiindcă încă ezităm.

Durerea botează copiii și vegheaza cu mama

și falsifica toate verighetele de aur.

Durerea stă la dispoziția tuturor, mangaie fruntea gânditorului,

ea leagă bijuteriile la gâtul femeii,

ea sta in pragul ușii când bărbatul pleaca de la iubita sa …

Ce altceva durerea dăruiește celor dragi?

Nu mai știu.

Oferă margele și flori, dă cantece și vise,

ea ne dă o mie de sărutări care sunt toate goale,

Ea dă singurul sărut care este real.

Ea ne dă sufletele noastre rare și lucrurile ciudate,

ea ne dă cele mai mari beneficii ale vieții:

iubirea, singurătatea și fața morții.

—————————————

KIPU

 

Onnella ei ole lauluja, onnella ei ole ajatuksia, onnella ei ole mitään.

Tönäise onneasi niin, että se särkyy, sillä onni on paha.

Onni tulee hiljaa aamun huokauksessa nukkuvissa pensaissa,

onni liukuu pois kevyissä pilvissä yli syvänsinisen syvyyden,

onni on tasanko, joka nukkuu keskipäivän hehkussa

tai meren loputon aava auringon pystysuorien säteiden paahteessa,

onni on voimaton, se nukkuu ja hengittää

eikä tiedä mistään mitään…

Tunnetko kivun? Se on vahva ja iso ja sillä on

kädet salaa nyrkissä.

Tunnetko kivun? Se hymyilee toiveikkaasti

itkettynein silmin.

Kipu antaa meille kaiken, mitä tarvitsemme –

se antaa meille kuoleman valtakunnan avaimet,

se työntää meidät portista sisään,

kun me vielä epäröimme.

Kipu kastaa lapset ja valvoo äidin kanssa

ja takoo kaikki kultaiset vihkisormukset.

Kipu hallitsee kaikkia, se siloittaa ajattelijan otsan,

se kiinnittää korun halutun naisen kaulaan,

se seisoo ovella, kun mies tulee ulos rakkaansa luota…

Mitä muuta kipu antaa rakkailleen?

En tiedä enää.

Se antaa helmiä ja kukkia, se antaa lauluja ja unelmia,

se antaa meille tuhat suudelmaa, jotka kaikki ovat tyhjiä,

se antaa ainoan todellisen suudelman.

Se antaa meille omalaatuiset sielumme ja

kummalliset mieltymyksemme,

se antaa meille kaikki elämän parhaat edut:

rakkauden, yksinäisyyden ja kuoleman kasvot.

Maria Magdalena

Skönhet / Frumusetea / Beauty

POSTED IN classic poetry, translated Finnish-English, translated Finnish-Romanian April 4, 2019

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Skönhet / Frumusetea / Beauty

Vad är skönhet? Fråga alla själar –
skönhet är varje överflöd, varje glöd, varje överfyllnad och varje stort armod;
skönhet är att vara sommaren trogen och naken intill hösten;
skönhet är papegojans fjäderskrud eller solnedgången som bebådar storm;
skönhet är ett skarpt drag och ett eget tonfall: det är jag,
skönhet är en stor förlust och ett tigande sorgetåg,
skönhet är solfjäderns lätta slag som väcker ödets fläkt;
skönhet är att vara vällustig som rosen eller att förlåta allting för att solen skiner;
skönhet är korset munken valt eller pärlbandet damen får av sin älskare,
skönhet är icke den tunna såsen i vilken diktare servera sig själva,
skönhet är att föra krig och söka lycka,
skönhet är att tjäna högre makter.

EDITH SÖDERGRAN
—————————–
Frumusetea

Ce-i frumusetea? Intreaba orice suflet-
frumusetea este fiece revarsare, fiece stralucire, fiece abundenta
si fiece saracie mare;
frumusetea este sa fii credincios verii si sa mergi goala spre toamna;
frumusetea este penajul unui papagal ori apusul ce prevesteste furtuni;
frumusetea este o trasatura accentuata si tonul personal : Eu sunt
frumusetea este o grea pierdere si o procesiune funerala tacuta,
frumusetea este usoara miscare a evantaiului care trezeste briza destinului:
frumusetea este sa fii voluptuoasa precum un trandafir
ori sa ierti totul pentru ca soarele sa straluceasca;
frumusetea este crucea aleasa de calugar ori margelele
pe care o doamna le are de la iubitul ei
frumusetea nu este sosul fin din care care poetii se servesc,
frumusetea este sa porti un razboi spre a cauta fericirea,
frumusetea este sa servesti puteri mai inalte
——————————————–
Beauty
What is beauty? Ask All Souls –
beauty is every abundance, every glow, every overflow
and every great poverty;
beauty is to be faithful to the summer and go naked to the fall;
beauty is the parrot’s spring thrust or the sunset that invokes storm;
beauty is a sharp feature and its own tone: I am,
beauty is a great loss and a silent funeral,
beauty is the light stroke of the fan that awakens the fate;
beauty is to be voluptuous as the rose or to forgive everything for the sun to shine;
beauty is the cross chosen by a monk or the beaded
a lady gets from her lover,
beauty is not the thin sauce in which poets serve themselves,
beauty is to wage war and seek happiness,
beauty is to serve higher powers.

 

Maria Magdalena

Joskus / Candva / Sometimes

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

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

Happy birthday, Hilja Onerva Lehtinen!

POSTED IN classic poetry, Spring, translated Finnish-English, translated Finnish-Romanian April 28, 2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tropiikin alla

 

Yhden kerran elämässä tuliruusu aukee
yhden yön se kukoistaa ja aamulla jo raukee
sill’ on syvä silmänluonti, kutsuva ja kuuma
sill’ on hehkuheteillänsä keskiöiden huuma

Sill’ on lehti verinen ja purppurainen huuli
sill’ on tuoksu huumava kuin kevätaron tuuli.
Taita tulikukkanen ja juo sen kuuma mesi
elä hetki, nauti hetki, kaadu paikallesi!

 

Hilja Onerva Lehtinen

 

At Tropics

Only once in a lifetime the fire-rose opens eyes
only for a night it blossoms and by morning dies
for one night it has a deep glance, calling through the fire
for one night its glowing stamens have midnight’s desire.

For one night a bloody petal and a purple lip,
its intoxicating fragrance, springtime’s windy steppe,
break away the burning flower, drink its essence fever
Live a moment, carpe diem and then die forever !

 

La Tropice

Un moment in asta viata roza de foc e in floare,
doar o noapte infloreste,pana dimineata moare;
isi deschide ochi adanci si chematori in soapte,
in stamine-are extazul miezului de noapte.

Are sangerie frunza, buze purpurii,
parfum orfic, vantul stepei verilor pustii.
Frange infocata floare, bea-i din trup esenta,
Fii si bucura-te-o clipa, uita-ti existenta!

 

Happy Eternity on your birthday, Hilja Onerva Lehtinen, the Fire Rose of Finnish poetry

 

 

Romanian and English versions by Maria Magdalena Biela

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