Ne-om aminti cândva târziu
de-această întâmplare simplă,
de-această bancă unde stăm
tâmplă fierbinte lângă tâmplă.
De pe stamine de alun,
din plopii albi, se cerne jarul.
Orice-nceput se vrea fecund,
risipei se dedă Florarul.
Polenul cade peste noi,
în preajmă galbene troiene
alcătuieşte-n aur fin.
Pe umeri cade-ne şi-n gene.
Ne cade-n gură când vorbim,
şi-n ochi, când nu găsim cuvântul.
Şi nu ştim ce păreri de rău
ne tulbură, pieziş, avântul.
Ne-om aminti cândva târziu
de-această întâmplare simplă,
de-această bancă unde stăm
tâmplă fierbinte lângă tâmplă.
Visând, întrezărim prin doruri -
latente-n pulberi aurii –
păduri ce ar putea să fie
şi niciodatã nu vor fi.
Risipei se dedã florarul
by Lucian Blaga
We shall remember once, too late,
This simple happening, so fine,
This very bench where we are seated,
Your burning temple next to mine.
From hazel stamens, cinders fall
White as the poplars that they land on,
Beginnings want to be fecund,
May gives itself with sweet abandon.
The pollen falls on both of us,
Small mountains made of golden ashes
It forms around us, and it falls
On our shoulders and our lashes.
It falls into our mouths when speaking,
On eyes, when we are mute with wonder
And there’s regret, but we don’t know
Why it would tear us both asunder.
We shall remember once, too late,
This simple happening, so fine,
This very bench where we are seated
Your burning temple next to mine.
In dreams, through longings, we can see—
All latent in the dust of gold
These forests that perhaps could be—
But that will never, ever, grow.
May Gives Itself with Sweet Abandon
tr. Cristina Hanganu-Bresch
my favourite folk singer, Tudor Gheorghe, singing the poem
Notes:
2. I have stolen the title of this post from the Black Sun , i am a poor title giver, yes i know this, ffflaneur :-)
3. for those of you interested in translation problems, please go here and read the translator's explanations about this poem.
