E vremea rozelor ce mor,
Mor în grădini, şi mor şi-n mine --
Ş-au fost atât de viaţă pline,
Şi azi se sting aşa uşor.
În tot, se simte un fior.
O jale e în orişicine.
E vremea rozelor ce mor --
Mor în grădini, şi mor şi-n mine.
Pe sub amurgu-ntristător,
Curg vălmăşaguri de suspine,
Şi-n marea noapte care vine
Duioase-şi pleacă fruntea lor --
E vremea rozelor ce mor.
Alexandru Macedonski
(Rondelul rozelor ce mor)
It is the time when roses die,
They die in gardens, and in me -
They were so full of life and glee,
And now they droop with a faint sigh.
Through everything cold shivers fly.
Despondency's in all we see.
It is the time when roses die -
They die in gardens, and in me.
Beneath the dismal twilight sky
There eddies many a faint sigh;
And towards the long night to be
They gently bend their heads so shy -
It is the time when roses die.
Tudor Gheorghe sings this poem:
here
Fabulous - poem and image.
ReplyDeleteBut why should the rose lament like this? Didn't her fragrance, the blush of her cheeks, draw the lover to her? Didn't her tears turn to wine when they touched his lips? Doesn't the rose rejoice in drawing blood from those who touch her?
ReplyDeletePerhaps it was only the rose who was truly alive while the world slept-for only the broken-hearted live- and each petal a tongue that spoke of joy and pain?
I like the lines which show that the beloved isn't always cruel after all:
'What is lovelier than that the lover sleeps weeping, and his beloved comes to the rose garden and places roses on his pillow'
thank you Dave! maybe I should add that this is a poem belonging to the last 10 years of the 19th century - or perhaps it is easy to guess...
ReplyDeleteanonymous: I don't think that the rose herself was lamenting, just the poet :-P but it is one of the poems I love very much, well in Romanian - and also the song, you have to listen to it.
ReplyDeleteHi...sorry for intruding.
ReplyDeletei am aware of your blog through Antonia's but do you know where she is? just disappeared....her blog that is.
anyway.....your pictures are nice, shall i say though i lack the eye to say much. though it would be interesting to know who the subject is...the subject of the shutter that catches the person adorning your blog, besides the dying roses though these roses won't die till you decide to delete the blog......
ciao
kubla, hi! why do you use the word "intruding"? how could that be?
ReplyDeleteof course I know you and I read your blog actually, I like your stuff and it's good to see some activity there again :-) and I read you also on the Proust-blog :-) but I am a little shy when it comes to comments...
anyway, of course I am glad that you "intruded", even if my feeling is that you actually came here to search for Antonia :-) and even if this were true, I wouldn't bother :-) I don't know what to say, she closed her blog, people do this from time to time and it is not such a rare case it seems. but you can find her on flickr if you want to, I am afraid you will be disappointed because she only shows her pictures there, and you say you don't have the eye for that. I guess she was just tired of words and wanted to try only images for a while. but hey, if you want to talk to her, why don't you write her an email?
and of course you raise a very interesting question here, alas an unsolvable one: does it really mean that the roses are immortal as long my picture of them subsists?
Hi Roxana,
ReplyDeletewe spoke once long ago but I wanted to say hello again and to tell you that I've lately found myself spending more time with your images and your words -- always so beautiful and often, to me, very contradictory. I mean that I feel simultaneously very close to what you're saying and also very distant -- perhaps because we're looking at/toward the same things but with different eyes.
thank you :)
Hi
ReplyDeleteThanks for your kind words. I often visit your blog too. RE the roses, well, these roses too can die eventually with the passage of time, the people that have visited your blog outgrowing this and other things and later, through the dust and haze of memory, once revisited, these roses will be symbols of the present time that is rushing fast towards dissolution.
love the roses - and I love the one wilting away as well.
ReplyDeleteoh, Clavdia, hi :-) yes of course I know you but I had somehow lost track of your letters, I am glad you came by! I am very intrigued by what you say - in which sense are your eyes same/different than mine? I know it is a hard question, so I won't bother if you just skip it :-)
ReplyDeleteand no, I thank you...
kubla, I had no idea that you visited me, I just want to thank you...
ReplyDeletere: roses, "When, having lifted the journey's burden of grief,
Tear stained eyes gazed into the distance" and saw the roses once again, as they were then, at that lost moment in time, well, if my picture can work that out for me and maybe some few others, I am at peace.
szerelem, good to hear from you :-) I remember your love for pink roses, these are the same but more tired and older.
ReplyDelete