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ANA BLANDIANA (25-03-1942)<\/p>\n
1. Carantin\u0103<\/p>\n
Durerea nu e contagioas\u0103,
V\u0103 asigur, durerea nu se transmite,
Nici un nerv r\u0103sucit \u00een trupul aproapelui meu
Nu produce \u00een mine sf\u00e2\u015fietoare atingeri.
Durerea nu e contagioas\u0103, durerea
Singularizeaz\u0103 mai atroce dec\u00e2t zidurile,
Nici o carantin\u0103 nu izoleaz\u0103 at\u00e2t de perfect,
E banal ce spun – acesta e argumentul.
Doamne, c\u00e2t\u0103 literatur\u0103 con\u0163inem!
Sentimentele – v\u0103 aminti\u0163i? – le-am \u00eenv\u0103\u0163at \u00eenc\u0103 la \u015fcoal\u0103.
\u00cen jurul patului celui ce moare ei pl\u00e2ng,
Dar nu se contamineaz\u0103 de moarte nici unul.
Fi\u0163i lini\u015fti\u0163i, priveghea\u0163i altrui\u015fti pe bolnavi.
Nu ve\u0163i lua durerea lor, fi\u0163i f\u0103r\u0103 team\u0103.
A murit. Vrea cineva s\u0103-l urmeze?
Numai bocete tradi\u0163ionale.<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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Quarantine<\/p>\n
The pain isn’t contagious,
I assure you, the pain cannot be transmitted,
No nerve twisted in my peer’s body
causes excruciating touching inside me.
The pain is not contagious, the pain
Singles out more atrocious than the walls,
No quarantine isolates so perfectly,
It’s trivial what I say – that’s the argument.
Lord, how much literature we contain!
The feelings – remember? – we’ve learned about them yet in school.
Around the bed of the dying they cry,
But no one is contaminated by death.
Be calm, watch over the sick altruistically.
You will not take their pain, fear not.
He died. Does anyone want to follow him?
Only traditional lamentations.<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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2. Am obosit<\/p>\n
Am obosit s\u0103 m\u0103 nasc din idee,
Am obosit s\u0103 nu mor –
Mi-am ales o frunz\u0103,
Iat\u0103 din ea m\u0103 voi na\u015fte,
Dup\u0103 chipul \u015fi asem\u0103narea ei, u\u015for
Seva r\u0103coroas\u0103 o s\u0103 m\u0103 p\u0103trunz\u0103
\u015ei nervurile \u00eemi vor fi fragede moa\u015fte;
De la ea o s\u0103 \u00eenv\u0103\u0163 s\u0103 tremur, s\u0103 cresc,
\u015ei de durere s\u0103 m\u0103 fac str\u0103lucitoare;
Apoi s\u0103 m\u0103 desprind de pe ram
Ca un cuv\u00e2nt de pe buze.
\u00cen felul acela copil\u0103resc
\u00cen care
Se moare
La frunze.<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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I am tired<\/p>\n
I’m tired of being born from idea,
I’m tired of not dying –
I chose a leaf,
Behold, I will be born from it,
In her image and likeness, easy
The cool vigor will penetrate me
And my nervures will be tender relics.
From it I will learn to tremble, to grow,
And of pain to become bright.
Then to get off the branch
Like a word from the lips.
In that childish way
In which
one dies
amongst leaves.<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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3. Eu cred<\/p>\n
Eu cred ca suntem un popor vegetal,
De unde altfel linistea
In care asteptam desfrunzirea?
De unde curajul
De-a ne da drumul pe toboganul somnului
P\u00e2na aproape de moarte,
Cu siguranta
Ca vom mai fi \u00een stare sa ne nastem
Din nou?
Eu cred ca suntem un popor vegetal-
Cine-a vazut vreodata
Un copac revolt\u00e2ndu-se?<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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I think<\/p>\n
I think we are a vegetal nation,
Where from then the peace in which
We are waiting for defoliation.
Where from the courage
To slip on the sleep’s slide
Up to the edge of death,
Being sure
That we’ll be able to
Be born again?
I think we are a vegetal nation –
Who ever saw
A tree revolting?<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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4. Eclipsa<\/p>\n
Renunt la mila greu ca la un viciu,
Cu mila sunt drogata de copil.
Alb \u00eenstelata de ridicol pl\u00e2ng
L\u00e2nga fricos, l\u00e2nga \u00eenvins, l\u00e2nga umil.<\/p>\n
\u00cei pl\u00e2ng pe prosti si prostii ma \u00eenving,
Sur\u00e2zatori sub steaua mea sterila.
De gingasie tot mai mult ma-ntunec
Si pier de umanism si mila.<\/p>\n
\u00cenduiosate m\u00e2ini \u00eentind sa m\u00e2ng\u00e2i
Fiare gonind spre mine hamesite,
Si-mi pare rau ca n-o sa mai sarut
Si botul care ma ucide.<\/p>\n
Nici n-am trait spre-a nu jigni pe nimeni,
Mi-au prins \u00een tarna radacini genunchii,
Si-mi trece viata \u00eencerc\u00e2nd sa-mi cresc
La capetele aripilor unghii.<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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Eclipse<\/p>\n
I give up mercy hardly as an addiction,
With mercy I’ve been drugged since infancy.
White starry ridiculed I cry
near the fearful, the beaten, the lowly.<\/p>\n
I cry for stupid and the stupid beat me,
Under my barren star they smile shiftily
Of tenderness more and more I darken
And I perish of humanism and pity.<\/p>\n
Heartwarming hands I stretch out to comfort
Beasts chasing me famished and cruel
And I am sorry that I wouldn’t kiss
The snout that comes to me to kill.<\/p>\n
I didn’t even live not to offend someone,
My knees caught roots in the earthly dust,
And my life was wasted trying to grow
To my wings fingernails, for I must.<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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5. Restul pe masa<\/p>\n
Am o deprindere monstruoasa aproape
Nu-mi place sa fiu datoare nimanui.
Doctorului care ma vindeca ii trimit flori,
Pentru sanatate garoafe
Si suntem chit.
Ospatarului ii las restul pe masa,
Celui care imi face-un cadou
Ii fac unul mai mare,
Celui care-mi surade-i surad,
Celui care-mi ranjeste-i surad.
Inchei toate socotelile in felul acesta,
Ramanand deasupra,
Taind toate puntile
Si, cateodata,
Ma cuprinde-o dorinta nebuna
Sa fiu recunoscatoare cuiva,
Sa ma tarasc in genunchi multumind,
Sa strig: \u201eNu sunt vrednica
Nici dandu-mi viata sa inapoiez bunatate atata!\u201c
Dar in urma mea totu-i platit.<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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The change on the table<\/p>\n
I have an almost monstrous habit
I don’t like being indebted to anyone.
To the doctor that heals me I send flowers,
for health carnations
and we are even.
To the waiter I leave the change on the table,
To the one who gives me a present
I give a bigger one,
I smile at the one who smiles at me,
I smile at the one who smirks at me.
I close all accounts this way,
Remaining above all things,
Burning all bridges
And, sometimes,
I feel a mad urge
to be grateful to someone
to crawl on my knees thanking,
To scream: ” I am not worthy
to return so much kindness
not even giving my life!”
But, behind me, everything is paid.<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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6. Descantec de ploaie<\/p>\n
Iubesc ploile, iubesc cu patima ploile,
\u00cennebunitele ploi si ploile calme,
Ploile feciorelnice si ploile-dezlantuite femei,
Ploile proaspete si plictisitoarele ploi fara sf\u00e2rsit,
Iubesc ploile, iubesc cu patima ploile,
\u00cemi place sa ma tavalesc prin iarba lor alba, \u00eenalta,
\u00cemi place sa le rup firele si sa umblu cu ele \u00een dinti,
Sa ameteasca, privindu-ma astfel, barbatii.
Stiu ca-i ur\u00e2t sa spui \u201cSunt cea mai frumoasa femeie\u201d,
E ur\u00e2t si poate nici nu e adevarat,
Dar lasa-ma atunci c\u00e2nd ploua,
Numai atunci c\u00e2nd ploua,
Sa rostesc magica formula \u201cSunt cea mai frumoasa femeie\u201d.
Sunt cea mai frumoasa femeie pentru ca ploua
Si-mi sta bine cu franjurii ploii \u00een par,
Sunt cea mai frumoasa femeie pentru ca-i v\u00e2nt
Si rochia se zbate disperata sa-mi ascunda genunchii,
Sunt cea mai frumoasa femeie pentru ca tu
Esti departe plecat si eu te astept,
Si tu stii ca te-astept,
Sunt cea mai frumoasa femeie si stiu sa astept
Si totusi astept.
E-n aer miros de dragoste viu,
Si toti trecatorii adulmeca ploaia sa-i simta mirosul,
Pe-o asemenea ploaie poti sa te-ndragostesti fulgerator,
Toti trecatorii sunt \u00eendragostiti,
Si eu te astept.
Doar tu stii –
Iubesc ploile,
Iubesc cu patima ploile, \u00eennebunitele ploi si ploile calme,
Ploile feciorelnice si ploile-dezlantuite femei\u2026<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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Rain spell<\/p>\n
I love the rains,
passionately I love the rains, the gone insane rains and the tender rains,
the virginal rains and the rains-women unleashed,
the fresh rains and the boring rains without an end,
I love the rains, passionately I love the rains,
I like to welter myself through their white, tall grass,
I like to break their leaves and to walk with them in my teeth,
to make men dizzy, watching me so.
I know that it\u2019s bad to say: \u201cI\u2019m the most beautiful woman!\u201d
It is bad and, maybe, it isn\u2019t even true,
yet let me then, when it rains,
only then, when it rains,
to say the magic formula: \u201cI\u2019m the most beautiful woman\u201d.
I\u2019m the most beautiful woman because it rains
and the fringes of the rain look good on my hair,
I\u2019m the most beautiful woman because it\u2019s wind
and the dress struggles desperately to hide my knees,
I\u2019m the most beautiful woman because
you are far away gone and I\u2019m waiting for you,
and you know that I\u2019m waiting for you.
I\u2019m the most beautiful woman and I know how to wait
and yet I wait.
There is in the air the alive scent of love,
and all the passers smell the rain to feel its scent,
on this kind of rain one can be lovestruck,
all the passers are in love,
and I\u2019m waiting for you.
Only you know –
I love the rains,
passionately I love the rains, the gone insane rains and the tender rains,
the virginal rains and the rains-women unleashed.<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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7. Intr-o rana<\/p>\n
Traim intr-o rana
Fara sa stim
Al cui este trupul ranit,
Nici de ce,
Singura certitudine este durerea
Care ne inconjoara,
Durerea
Pe care prezenta noastra
O infecteaza
Cand incearca s-o vindece…<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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In a wound<\/p>\n
We live in a wound
Not knowing
Whose is the wounded body,
Nor why.
The only certainty is the pain
That surrounds us,
The pain
That our presence
Infects it
While trying to heal it …<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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8. Remember<\/p>\n
To\u0163i -ora\u015ful, \u0163ara, planeta \u2013
Dormeau.
La urma urmei,
Ce altceva ar fi putut face,
M\u0103 \u00eentrebam
\u015ei-i priveam \u00eenduio\u015fat\u0103 cum dorm:
Unii cu elegan\u0163\u0103 \u015fi gra\u0163ie,
Al\u0163ii grosolani, l\u0103b\u0103r\u0163a\u0163i peste ceilal\u0163i,
Al\u0163ii zv\u00e2rcolindu-se, munci\u0163i de co\u015fmaruri,
De remu\u015fcarea c\u0103 dorm,
Al\u0163ii, dimpotriv\u0103, ferici\u0163i
C\u0103 au reu\u015fit, \u00een sf\u00e2r\u015fit,
Cu neuroleptice, cu exerci\u0163ii yoga,
S-adoarm\u0103.
O mare de trupuri inerte \u2013
Acoperind p\u00e2n\u0103 \u00een zare
Str\u0103zile, v\u0103ile, mun\u0163ii –
Pe valurile c\u0103reia oricine
(Cu singura condi\u0163ie s\u0103 fie treaz
Sau cel pu\u0163in somnambul)
Ar putea \u00eenainta
(Dar spre ce?),
O mare f\u0103r\u0103 \u0163\u0103rmuri, inert\u0103,
Aproape moart\u0103.
Aproape moart\u0103?
\u015ei deodat\u0103 m-a cuprins o spaim\u0103 nebun\u0103
C\u0103 nu vor mai fi \u00een stare s\u0103 se trezeasc\u0103
\u00cen zori,
C\u0103 vor uita p\u00e2n\u0103 atunci gesturile trezirii,
C\u0103 vor uita chiar \u015fi somnul,
Aceast\u0103 ultim\u0103 dovad\u0103 a fiin\u0163ei.
\u015ei am \u00eenceput s\u0103 le strig –
V\u0103 implor, v\u0103 conjur
Nu uita\u0163i c\u0103 dormi\u0163i,
Aduce\u0163i-v\u0103 aminte
C\u0103 sunte\u0163i \u00een via\u0163\u0103 …<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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Remember<\/p>\n
Everyone – the city, the country, the planet –
was sleeping.
After all,
What else could they have done,
I was wondering
While watching them tenderly
how they slept:
Some with elegance and grace,
Others rude, sprawling over the others,
Others writhing, toiled by nightmares,
By the remorse of being asleep,
Others, on the contrary, happy
That they finally managed,
With neuroleptics, with yoga exercises,
To sleep.
A sea of inert bodies –
Covering up to horizon
The streets, the valleys, the mountains –
On whose waves anyone
(Provided he was awake
Or at least a sleepwalker)
Could move forward
(But towards what?),
A sea without shores, inert,
Almost dead.
Almost dead?
And suddenly I was terrified
That they will no longer be able to wake up
At dawn,
That they will forget until then the gestures of awakening,
That they will even forget the sleep,
This last proof of being.
And I started shouting at them –
I beg you; I conjure you
Don’t forget that you are sleeping,
Remember
That you are alive …<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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9. Cine dintre noi<\/p>\n
C\u00e2nd pleci,
Nu \u0219tiu care dintre noi a plecat,
C\u00e2nd \u00eentind m\u00e2na<\/p>\nNu \u0219tiu dac\u0103 nu m\u0103 caut pe mine,
C\u00e2nd \u00ee\u021bi spun: te iubesc,
Nu \u0219tiu dac\u0103 nu mie \u00eemi spun
\u0218i mi se face ru\u0219ine.
Odinioar\u0103
\u0218tiam cum ar\u0103\u021bi,
Erai
Nespus de \u00eenalt \u0219i de sub\u021bire,
\u0218tiam de unde-ncepi
\u0218i unde m\u0103 sf\u00e2r\u0219esc,
\u00ce\u021bi g\u0103seam u\u0219or
Buzele, g\u00e2tul,
Clavicula dulce,
Um\u0103rul copil\u0103resc.
Demult, \u00eemi amintesc,
Eram doi,
\u021ain minte cum ne \u021bineam de m\u00e2n\u0103\u2026
Cine-a fost \u00eenfr\u00e2nt dintre noi?
Cine-a putut s\u0103 r\u0103m\u00e2n\u0103?
Singurul trup este al t\u0103u
Sau al meu?
\u0218i mi-e at\u00e2t de dor
De cine?
Numai tac\u00e2nd,
Cu ochii-nchisi, cu dintii str\u00e2nsi,
Mai pot sa te distrug
Cu greu
\u00cen mine.<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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Which of us<\/p>\n
When you leave,
I don’t know which of us left,
When I reach out
I don’t know if I’m not looking for myself,
When I say: I love you,
I don’t know if I’m not telling myself
And I’m ashamed.
Yesteryear
I knew how you looked like,
You were
Extremely tall and thin,
I knew where you started
And where I ended up,
I could easily find
your lips, neck,
sweet collarbone,
childish shoulder.
A long time ago, I remember,
There were two of us,
I remember holding hands\u2026
Which of us was defeated?
Who could stay?
The only body is yours
Or mine?
And I miss so much
Who?
Just keeping quiet,
With his eyes closed, teeth clenched,
I can hardly
destroy you
in me.<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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10.Printre clipe<\/p>\n
Ca floarea t\u0103iat\u0103
Cu petale-aripe
\u021ai-aminte\u0219ti cum c\u0103deai
Printre clipe?<\/p>\n
\u0218i clipele cum
Se d\u0103deau la o parte
S\u0103 te-ajute s-ajungi
\u00cen ad\u00e2ncul din carte,<\/p>\n
Unde stelele moarte
Se transform\u0103-n poeme
\u0218i nu e t\u00e2rziu,
\u0218i nu e devreme<\/p>\n
S\u0103 pierzi ve\u0219nicia,
S\u0103 renun\u021bi \u0219i s\u0103 ier\u021bi.
\u021ai-aminte\u0219ti \u00eentunericul
Dintre coper\u021bi?<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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Among winks<\/p>\n
Like the flower cut
With petals wings
Do you remember how you fell
Among winks?<\/p>\n
And how the moments
were set aside
To help you get there
in the book’s deep sight,<\/p>\n
Where the dead stars
turn themselves into poems
And it’s not too late,
nor too early is<\/p>\n
To lose eternity,
To give up, forgive others
Do you recall the darkness
Between the covers?<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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11. Copil\u0103rie<\/p>\n
Din oglind\u0103 m\u0103 privea un trup firav
Cu claviatura coastelor distinct\u0103,
Inima-ap\u0103sa pe clape grav
\u015ei-ncerca s\u0103-apar\u0103 \u00een oglind\u0103.<\/p>\n
N-am v\u0103zut-o niciodat\u0103, dar \u015ftiam,
Ca-ntr-un joc de-a baba-oarba, c\u0103-i ascuns\u0103
(Precum inima salc\u00e2mului din geam
Co\u015ful pieptului de crengi o face frunz\u0103).<\/p>\n
M\u0103-ntrebam de unde l-a-nv\u0103\u0163at \u015fi dac\u0103
E aievea c\u00e2ntu-i uniform,
\u015ei ca nu cumva \u00een somn s\u0103 tac\u0103,
Mi-era fric\u0103 seara s\u0103 adorm.<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
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Childhood<\/p>\n
From the mirror a frail body looked at me
With the distinct clavier of ribs
The heart pressed solemnly on the key
Trying to appear in mirror’s gleams.<\/p>\n
Never have I seen it, yet I knew
That is hidden, like in playing hide-and-seek,
(As the heart of acacia too
the chest of twigs makes it a leaf meek.)<\/p>\n
Wondering where from she learned her beat,
Was it real her song, soothing and light,
and afraid that she’ll stop in my sleep
Didn’t want to fall asleep at night.<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
traducere, M. M. Biela<\/blockquote>\n
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\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[40],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-10572","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-romanian"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10572","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=10572"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10572\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10574,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10572\/revisions\/10574"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=10572"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=10572"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=10572"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}