classic poetry
Eating Poetry / Mancand Poezie
POSTED IN classic poetry, translated English-Romanian April 12, 2019
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
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Mancand poezieCerneala-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
POEM OF THE DAY
POSTED IN classic poetry April 11, 2019
POEM OF THE DAYHappy!
April seems to bring me happiness :)! For a second time I have been chosen Poet of the day on Poem Hunter, this time as a translator of Mark Strand!!! I am really and deeply happy: THANK YOU, MARK STRAND! 🙂Maria Magdalena Biela
Новолунье / Luna plina
POSTED IN classic poetry April 9, 2019
НоволуньеНовый месяц встал над лугом,
Над росистою межой.
Милый, дальний и чужой,
Приходи, ты будешь другом.Днем — скрываю, днем — молчу.
Месяц в небе, — нету мочи!
В эти месячные ночи
Рвусь к любимому плечу.Не спрошу себя: «Кто ж он?»
Все расскажут — твои губы!
Только днем объятья грубы,
Только днем порыв смешон.Днем, томима гордым бесом,
Лгу с улыбкой на устах.
Ночью ж… Милый, дальний… Ах!
Лунный серп уже над лесом!Марина Цветаева
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Luna nouaPeste lunca-i luna noua
Peste limita de roua.
Vino, prieten fac din tine,
Draga, departat, straine.Ziua ma ascund si tac
Luna de sus – nu am vlaga!
asta noapte-n luna vaga
fug la umarul cel drag.“Cine-i el?”, nu-ntreb nicicand
Ce-as sti, buzele-ti or spune!
E vulgar in brate-ti stand
Ziua ne-om potrivi bine.Ziua-mi spune duh de moarte
Zambind sa aleg minciuna.
Noaptea…dragule, departe…
Peste creste-i semiluna.Maria Magdalena
The End / Sfarsit
POSTED IN classic poetry, translated English-Romanian April 9, 2019
The End / SfarsitNot 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 skyIs 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
——————————————–
SfarsitNu 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 cerulNu 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
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
……………………
SINGURATATERazi, 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
Palme delle mani / Palms of hands / Palme ale mainilor
POSTED IN classic poetry, translated Italian-English, translated Italian-Romanian April 6, 2019
Palme delle mani / Palms of hands / Palme ale mainilor
Oh palme delle mani iscritte di segni,
triangoli, rami, croci, stelle,
tutta la mia vita ch’è stata e sarà,
il punto ch’io ignoro della morte e non temo,
e altri, altri che sembrano di confitti chiodi,
ma intorno vi raggiano ali di gloria,
oh palme delle mani vi guardo come specchi,
così umane e così arcane,
appannati specchi che la luce più indora,
brevi e morbide, e tanto destino inciso,
immagini d’immensi spazi e musiche,
e fantasia e follia e solitudine e carità,
linee linee in catena in croce in danza,
oh palme delle mie mani, scrittura d’astri!
SIBILLA ALERAMO
—————————-Palms of hands
Oh palms of hands with signs inscribed,
triangles, branches, crosses, stars,
all my life that has been and will be,
the moment of death that I ignore and I don’t fear,
and other, other that look like nailed nails,
but around you they gleam wings of glory,
oh palms of hands I look at you like in the mirrors,
so human and so occult,
misted mirrors so light shines more,
short and soft, and much engraved destiny,
images of immense spaces and music,
and fantasies and madness and loneliness and charity,
lines lines in chain on the cross in dance,
oh palms of my hands, writing of stars!…………………………….
Palme ale mainilorOh palme ale mainilor inscrise cu semne
triunghiuri, ramuri, cruci, stele,
toata viata mea care a fost si care va fi,
momentul mortii pe care il ignor si de care nu ma tem
si altele, altele care seamana a cuie batute,
dar în jurul vostru sclipesc aripi de slava,
oh palme ma uit la voi ca in oglinzi,
atat de umane si atat de oculte,
oglinzi estompate ca lumina sa straluceasca mai mult
scurte si moi, si mult destin gravat,
imagini de spatii imense si muzica,
si fantezii si nebunie si singuratate si mila,
linii linii în lant pe crucea în dans,
o palme ale mainilor, scriitura a stelelor!
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 is like a perhaps hand / Primavara este precum o mana poateSpring 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) andchanging 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)andwithout breaking anything.
e.e.cummings
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Primavara este precum o manaPrimavara 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
SMÄRTAN / THE PAIN / DUREREA / KIPU
POSTED IN classic poetry, translated Finnish-English, translated Finnish-Romanian April 5, 2019
SMÄRTAN / THE PAIN / DUREREA / KIPULyckan 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 glödeller 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 modernoch 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 PAINHappiness 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 busheshappiness glides away in light clouds over deep blue depths,happiness is the field that sleeps in the glow of afternoonor 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 motherand 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.———————————————-DUREREAFericirea 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 amiezeisau 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 mamași 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.—————————————KIPUOnnella 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 hehkussatai meren loputon aava auringon pystysuorien säteiden paahteessa,onni on voimaton, se nukkuu ja hengittääeikä tiedä mistään mitään…Tunnetko kivun? Se on vahva ja iso ja sillä onkädet salaa nyrkissä.Tunnetko kivun? Se hymyilee toiveikkaastiitkettynein 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 kanssaja 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 jakummalliset 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 / BeautyVad 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
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FrumuseteaCe-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
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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
Verrà la morte e avrà i tuoi occhi / Death will come and have your eyes
POSTED IN classic poetry, translated Italian-English April 2, 2019
Verrà la morte e avrà i tuoi occhi / Death will come and have your eyes
Verrà la morte e avrà i tuoi occhi
questa morte che ci accompagna
dal mattino alla sera, insonne,
sorda, come un vecchio rimorso
o un vizio assurdo. I tuoi occhi
saranno una vana parola
un grido taciuto, un silenzio.Così li vedi ogni mattina
quando su te sola ti pieghi
nello specchio. O cara speranza,
quel giorno sapremo anche noi
che sei la vita e sei il nulla.Per tutti la morte ha uno sguardo.
Verrà la morte e avrà i tuoi occhi.
Sarà come smettere un vizio,
come vedere nello specchio
riemergere un viso morto,
come ascoltare un labbro chiuso.
Scenderemo nel gorgo muti.CESARE PAVESE
—————————-Death will come and have your eyes
Death will come and have your eyes-
this death that accompanies us
from morning to evening, sleepless,
deaf, like an old remorse
or an absurd vice. Your eyes
they will be a vain word
a silent cry, a silence.So you see them every morning
When you lean over alone
in the mirror. O dear hope,
that day we will also know
that you are life and you are nothing.Death has a face for everyone.
Death will come and will have your eyes.
It will be like giving up a vice,
Like seeing in the mirror
emerging a dead face,
like listening to closed lips.
We will descend into the silent whirlpool.
Maria Magdalena
