Showing posts with label Romania. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Romania. Show all posts

Thursday, 3 December 2009

through the waters of the blind

they say that history repeats itself:
what should we do
with the old communist buildings
which we have grown to call
home
?



---


and if we had wanted to burn
them down in the rage
of our late autumn
and if we had wished for
the knife of day
to cut through them
like a seed tearing
through the flesh of time...

yet we stood there, weary
not even holding hands
and no one from the angelic orders
forced our mouths to open
and our flowers to turn silent
against the sun
we who got drunk on waiting
that darkened within us like wine
we who couldn't even remember
why our limbs were numb
and why we cried for words
like ripples through
the waters of the blind

yet we stood there, bewildered,
and failing to notice
that our mirrors, stubbornly
buried in the wormwood of memory
had started to outgrow
the shabby contours of living
that a forest had begun to move
towards the barren centre of our sleep
that we ourselves had come to hang
like giant globes of light
from within the dead body of time.





Photobucket





Photobucket





Photobucket





Photobucket





Photobucket





Photobucket





Photobucket





Photobucket




Photobucket




Photobucket





Photobucket





Photobucket





Photobucket





Photobucket





Photobucket

Saturday, 28 November 2009

what should we do

with the old communist buildings
which we have grown to call

home
?



come -
let's paint them in the colours
of our pain,
in the dimness of what they call
history
but we simply call
our lives.





Photobucket





Photobucket











Photobucket






Photobucket






Photobucket




(the doorway of my block of flats)

Sunday, 2 August 2009

i die alone, my dream

Photobucket




- Und' vă duce, domnule ?
- În grădină, somnule.
- Ce să faceţi, domnule ?
- Să mă-mpuşte, somnule.
- Că au gloanţe, domnule ?
- Că au vreme, somnule.
- Und vă-ngroapă, domnule ?
- Sub zăpadă, somnule.
- Vă e frică, domnule ?
- Îmi e scîrbă, somnule.
- Cui să spunem, domnule ?
- Iadurilor, somnule.
- Va fi bine, domnule ?
- Va fi seară, somnule.
- Aveţi rude, domnule ?
- Am pe nimeni, somnule.
- Vreţi o cupă, domnule ?
- Cît mă costă, somnule ?
- N-are-a face, domnule.
- De otrăvuri, somnule...
- Nu vreţi cupa, domnule ?
- Sparge-o-n ţăndări, somnule !
- Să vă plîngem, domnule ?
- N-are-a face, somnule.
- Noapte bună, domnule !
- Dormi cu mine, somnule !
- Eu dorm singur, domnule.
- Eu mor singur, somnule.
- Moarte bună, domnule.
- Noapte bună, somnule !


Ion Caraion
(Am pe nimeni)










Photobucket





Photobucket





Photobucket




Where are they taking you, sir?
To the garden, my dream.
Why do they take you there, sir?
To shoot me, my dream.
Because they have bullets, sir?
Because they have time to, my dream.
Where shall they bury you, sir?
Under the snow, my dream.
Are you afraid, sir?
I find it revolting, my dream.
Whom shall we tell all this, sir?
Tell the fires of hell, my dream.
Will you be alright, sir?
Night will have come, my dream.
Who is your next of kin, sir?
I am alone in the world, my dream.
Would you care for a drink, sir?
What will it cost me, my dream?
The cost does not matter, sir.
Is the chalice poisoned, my dream?
You seem not want it, sir?
Smash it to pieces, my dream!
Should we mourn you, sir?
That would change nothing, my dream.
Good night to you, sir.
Let us sleep together, my dream.
Sir, I sleep alone.
I die alone, my dream.
Good death to you, sir!
Good night to you, my dream!


Alone in the World, by Ion Caraion

(tr. Constantin Roman)



dedicated to S.M., who loves Romanian Dracula-style castles :-) This pictures were taken at the Râşnov fortress in Transylvania, on a particular foggy (for tourists, read: Dracula-style) day :-)


Note: the English translation didn't include the last three lines of the poem, I don't know why. I added them in my own translation.
Also, in Romanian the dialogue takes place between the 'I' and 'my sleep', not 'my dream', as C. Roman chose to translate. Thus the word play is more striking: 'Let us sleep together, my sleep! Sir, I sleep alone!'. Here is a French version of the poem, translated by the same C. Roman:

Seul au monde

- Où vous emmènnent-ils, Monsieur?
- Dans le jardin, mon rêve.
- Pour quoi faire, Monsieur?
- Pour me fusiller, mon rêve.
- Parce qu’ils ont des balles, Monsieur?
- Parce qu’ils ont le temps, mon rêve.
- Où vous enterreront-ils, Monsieur?
- Sous la neige, mon rêve.
- Avez-vous peur, Monsieur?
- Je trouve ça révoltant, mon rêve.
- Qui doit-on prévenir, Monsieur?
- Les feux de l’enfer, mon rêve.
- Ça va aller quand même, Monsieur?
- Il fera nuit, mon rêve.
- Qui est votre plus proche parent, Monsieur?
- Je suis seul au monde, mon rêve.
- Voulez-vous boire un verre, Monsieur?
- Qu’est-ce que ça va me coûter, mon rêve?
- Peu importe le prix, Monsieur.
- Le calice est-il empoisonné, mon rêve?
- Vous n’en voulez pas, Monsieur?
- Casse-le en mille morceaux, mon rêve!
- Doit-on vous pleurer, Monsieur?
- Inutile, mon rêve.
- Bonne nuit, Monsieur.
- Dormons ensemble, mon rêve!
- Je dors seul, Monsieur.


Thursday, 30 July 2009

on mountains most separate

Photobucket




Nah ist
Und schwer zu fassen der Gott.
Wo aber Gefahr ist, wächst
Das Rettende auch.
Im Finstern wohnen
Die Adler und furchtlos gehn
Die Söhne der Alpen über den Abgrund weg
Auf leichtgebaueten Brüken.
Drum, da gehäuft sind rings
Die Gipfel der Zeit, und die Liebsten
Nah wohnen, ermattend auf
Getrenntesten Bergen,
So gib unschuldig Wasser,
O Fittige gib uns, treuesten Sinns
Hinüberzugehn und wiederzukehren.


Friedrich Hölderlin
(Patmos)



Near is,
And difficult to grasp, the God.
But where danger threatens
That which saves from also grows.
In gloomy places dwell
The eagles, and fearless over
The chasm walk the sons of the Alps
On bridges lightly built.
Therefore, since round about
Are heaped the summits of Time
And the most loved live near, growing faint
On mountains most separate,
Give us innocent water,
O pinions give us, with minds most faithful
To cross over and to return.

(tr. M. Hamburger)





Photobucket

Tuesday, 12 May 2009

the soul silences the blue springtime





Es schweigt die Seele den blauen Frühling.
Unter feuchtem Abendgezweig
Sank in Schauern die Stirne den Liebenden.

O das grünende Kreuz. In dunklem Gespräch
Erkannten sich Mann und Weib.
An kahler Mauer
Wandelt in seinen Gestirnen der Einsame.

Über die mondbeglänzten Wege des Walds
Sank die Wildnis
Vergessener Jagden; Blick der Bläue
Aus verfallenen Felsen bricht.



The soul silences the blue springtime.

Under moist evening branches

The forehead of lovers sank in shudders.


O the greening cross. In dark conversation

Man and woman knew each other.

Along the bleak wall

The lonely one wanders with his stars.


Over the moon-brightened forest ways

The wilderness

Of forgotten hunts sank; gaze of blue

Breaks from decayed rocks.















O des verfluchten Geschlechts. Wenn in befleckten Zimmern jegliches Schicksal vollendet ist, tritt mit modernden Schritten der Tod in das Haus. O, daß draußen Frühling wäre und im blühenden Baum ein lieblicher Vogel singe. Aber gräulich verdorrt das spärliche Grün an den Fenstern der Nächtlichen und es sinnen die blutenden Herzen noch Böses. O, die dämmernden Frühlingswege des Sinnenden. Gerechter erfreut ihn die blühende Hecke, die junge Saat des Landmanns und der singende Vogel, Gottes sanftes Geschöpf; die Abendglocke und die schöne Gemeine der Menschen. Daß er seines Schicksals vergäße und des dornigen Stachels.




O of the cursed race. When in maculate rooms every destiny has been fulfilled, death enters the house in moldering steps. O, that it were spring outdoors and a lovely bird was singing in the blossoming tree. But grayish the scanty green withers around the windows of the nocturnal ones and bleeding hearts still ponder evil. O, the dusking spring paths of the pondering. More righteously he rejoices in the blossoming hedge, the countryman's young seed, and the singing bird, God's soft creature; the evening bell and the beautiful community of men. So that he might forget his fate and the thorny sting.














Sehr leise sinkt ihr Lächeln in den verfallenen Brunnen,
Der bläulich in der Dämmerung rauscht. O, wie alt ist unser Geschlecht.
Jemand flüstert drunten im Garten; jemand hat diesen schwarzen Himmel verlassen.



Very quietly her smile sinks into the decayed fountain

Which murmurs bluish in the dusk. O how old is our race.

Somebody whispers down there in the garden; somebody has left this black sky.


















































Purpurn zerbrach der Gesegneten Mund. Die runden Augen
Spiegeln das dunkle Gold des Frühlingsnachmittags,
Saum und Schwärze des Walds, Abendängste im Grün..




Purple, the blessed one's mouth broke. Round eyes
Mirror the dark gold of the spring afternoon,
Edge and blackness of the forest, evening-anguishes in the green.









Bläulich dämmert der Frühling; unter saugenden Bäumen
Wandert ein Dunkles in Abend und Untergang,
Lauschend der sanften Klage der Amsel.
Schweigend erscheint die Nacht, ein blutendes Wild,
Das langsam hinsinkt am Hügel.

In feuchter Luft schwankt blühendes Apfelgezweig,
Löst silbern sich Verschlungenes,
Hinsterbend aus nächtigen Augen; fallende Sterne;
Sanfter Gesang der Kindheit.

Erscheinender stieg der Schläfer den schwarzen Wald hinab,
Und es rauschte ein blauer Quell im Grund,
Daß jener leise die bleichen Lider aufhob
Über sein schneeiges Antlitz;

Und es jagte der Mond ein rotes Tier
Aus seiner Höhle;
Und es starb in Seufzern die dunkle Klage der Frauen.





Spring dusks bluish: under sucking trees

A dark shape wanders into evening and decline,

Listening to the blackbird's soft lament.

Silently the night appears, a bleeding deer,

That slowly sinks down at the hill.


In moist air blossoming apple branches sway,

Labyrinthine shapes loosen silverly,

Dying away from nocturnal eyes; falling stars;

Soft song of childhood.


Appearing more the sleeper descended the black forest,

And a blue spring murmured from the ground,

So that the other one quietly lifted pale eyelids

Over his snowy countenance;


And the moon chased a red animal

From its cave;

And in sighs the dark lament of women died.










Ein blauer Augenblick ist nur mehr Seele.


A blue moment is only more soul.






















Leise sank von dunklen Schritten der Schnee,
Im Schatten des Baums
Heben die rosigen Lider Liebende.

Immer folgt den dunklen Rufen der Schiffer
Stern und Nacht;
Und die Ruder schlagen leise im Takt.

Balde an verfallener Mauer blühen
Die Veilchen,
Ergrünt so stille die Schläfe des Einsamen.



Quietly snow sank from dark steps,
In the shadow of the trees
Lovers raise the rosy eyelids.

Always star and night
Follow the mariners' dark calls;
And the oars beat quietly in time.

Soon by the decayed wall
Violets bloom,
So silently the temple of the lonely one turns green.
















Feierlich rauschen die Wasser. O die feuchten Schatten der Au,
Das schreitende Tier; Grünendes, Blütengezweig
Rührt die kristallene Stirne; schimmernder Schaukelkahn.
Leise tönt die Sonne im Rosengewölk am Hügel.
Groß ist die Stille des Tannenwalds, die ernsten Schatten am Fluß.

Reinheit! Reinheit! Wo sind die furchtbaren Pfade des Todes,
Des grauen steinernen Schweigens, die Felsen der Nacht
Und die friedlosen Schatten? Strahlender Sonnenabgrund.

Schwester, da ich dich fand an einsamer Lichtung
Des Waldes und Mittag war und groß das Schweigen des Tiers;
Weiße unter wilder Eiche, und es blühte silbern der Dorn.
Gewaltiges Sterben und die singende Flamme im Herzen.

Dunkler umfließen die Wasser die schönen Spiele der Fische.
Stunde der Trauer, Schweigender Anblick der Sonne;
Es ist die Seele ein Fremdes auf Erden. Geistlich dämmert
Bläue über dem verhauenen Wald und es läutet
Lange eine dunkle Glocke im Dorf; friedlich Geleit.
Stille blüht die Myrthe über den weißen Lidern des Toten.



Solemnly the waters murmur. O the moist shadows of the floodplain,

The striding animal; greening shapes, flowering branches

Touch the crystal forehead; shimmering swaying boat.

Quietly the sun sounds in the rose-colored clouds by the hill.

Great is the stillness of the fir forest, the serious shadows at the river.


Purity! Purity! Where are the terrible paths of death,

Of grey stony silence, the rocks of the night

And the peaceless shadows? Radiant sun-abyss.


Sister, when I found you at the lonely clearing

Of the forest, and it was midday and the silence of the animal great;

Whiteness under wild oak, and the thorn bloomed silver.

Enormous dying and the singing flame in the heart.


Darker the waters flow around the beautiful play of fishes.

Hour of mourning, silent vision of the sun;

The soul is a strange shape on earth. Spiritually blueness

Dusks over the pruned forest; and a dark bell rings

Long in the village; peaceful escort.

Silently the myrtle blooms over the white eyelids of the dead one.



All excerpts from Georg Trakl
(translated by Jim Doss and Werner Schmitt)