Latest quotes, page 2
Things of the past [Din trecut]
Now, when has gone our love sincere
Come to the graveyard with me, dear,
Where are entombed under the grass,
And by oblivion concealed
So many frozen dreams, alas!
Time and aloofness are their shield.
Get rid of your regrets and shame:
No one can put on us the blame.
So many crosses are around!...
Our first kiss lies here in the ground:
The moon was watching from on high
How we were crossing love's frontiers
And it was shining in the sky,
While happiness made us shed tears,
Which slowly trickled on our face;
We sipped them all in hot embrace.
Elsewhere a longing – dead and dried:
Two kids were eager, side by side,
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poem by Alexandru Vlahuţă, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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How much we loved each other and we thought [Cât ne iubeam, şi cum credeam odată]
How much we loved each other and we thought
That our sincere affection would endure,
That what we had in mind were notions pure
About that world perpetual we sought!
Time and again, my wish to hold you tight
Against my chest, more ardent was and great,
And on my heart it put a heavy weight:
The day I die... and tears obscured your sight...
Today, it's just a tale, not even sore,
Because all things came quickly to an end;
There's not a trace of what it was before,
So many vain illusions, my dear friend!
A sign, a kerchief waving at the door.
And then we in forgetfulness descend.
poem by Alexandru Vlahuţă, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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When I have nothing to write [Când n-am ce scrie]
Why are you surprised by me?
I'm a writer, you can see,
And when people ask me why,
To kill boredom, I reply.
Novels, chronicles, critique,
For these all I have technique:
Give me issues and then pay,
I make stories right away.
And for sure, it's no big deal...
Some ideas I can steal
Or some pattern improvise
And I'm like Apollo's guys.
Then the world is old of days,
You can write about its ways!
Style and grammar? Do not freak,
They're for people poor and weak.
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poem by Alexandru Vlahuţă, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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My shattered dreams [A mele visuri]
My shattered dreams, which mind conceives,
Fill up my heart with woe again,
I see them all in the pale leaves
And in the sorrow of the glen.
In snow they will forever sleep,
Covered by time with its thick shawl,
My shattered dreams, which make me weep
And fill my heart with bitter gall!
When happy days, O, lovely trees,
Will give you back what you have lost,
The leaves that from your boughs were tossed,
In night's deep darkness still will freeze
My shattered dreams, which mind conceives!
poem by Alexandru Vlahuţă, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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The statue [Statuia]
Your being nothing wants to let me hear:
Nor bad, nor good, nor bitter, nor sublime.
Your eyes as fine black mica do appear,
Which grace a statue's eye holes all the time.
My dreary gaze is crawling to your cheeks
Like does the sun when polar deserts scales
To freeze among the glaciated peaks
Stuck in its rays like in some pointed nails.
You didn't even guess I cared for thee,
Although my lust was boiling hot in me,
As waterfalls are boiling in their fits.
And my dear soul knocks at your frozen heart
Like someone who is far from being smart
And in an organ without keys now hits.
poem by Al. O. Teodoreanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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Trophim the hermit prays to Virgin Mary [Se-nchină Trofim pustnicul, Fecioarei Maria]
We sin, O, Virgin Mary, pure and brave,
In deed, and speech, and thought. We always sin:
Because right from the cradle to the grave,
We live in sin without and deep within.
And through repentance, which is blessed and right,
Our parents' sin we expiate for sure,
Have mercy on poor Trophim in his fight
With his relentless and unending lure.
To You I offer prayers hot and meek,
O, taintless Mother, and in truth I speak;
When in the shade you bloom like lilies shy,
Out of your limpid heart dew drops, I pray,
Which mirror the entire clear blue sky,
Into our souls pour gently right away.
poem by Al. O. Teodoreanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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October [Octombrie]
As if it were an icon full of light
Inside my heart your lovely image looms,
And my own dreams – small apricot tree blooms –
Fall like the snow around it, soft and white.
And when I see you standing at the door
I leave my dreams and bow down at your feet;
I'm like a flake that's melting in the heat,
Under your eyes, which I so much adore.
But when you're bored and quickly go away,
When with small steps on narrow tracks you sway,
And trample on dead leaves with awe and fear,
I feel the autumn twilight in my breast,
I cannot think, I'm empty as a nest,
When the last swallows fly and disappear.
poem by Al. O. Teodoreanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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Immortality [Nemurire]
The graves await for us with gaping mouths like wells.
And we are bound for them on roads of different size,
As hypnotized by smoke run often the gazelles
To snakes with golden scales and glowing diamond eyes.
Love, hatred: life. But, lo, with lights of amber snows,
They left the clouds of stars and like a sweeping storm
Are plunging in the dark, and may bring here, who knows,
Another humankind – a worthless lousy swarm!
The lofty suns will lose the seeds of their hot womb
And then will freeze (they die?). We statues will have made,
So that the bronze can show, forever (but to whom?),
What means to linger on, in clothes sewn for parade.
We never think in void will end its fruitful trip
The Earth, when spins in space in its calamity.
At last will be itself a shining fleeting strip,
And then will die both life and Immortality.
poem by Al. O. Teodoreanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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Madrigal [Madrigal]
Upon my dreams – red roses bringing luck –
Blue butterfly, you for a while did stay,
Your flimsy wings you nice and easy stuck
Then, with some grains of pollen went away,
To find a flower, maybe fair and new,
So off you flew, blue thing, in nature's blue...
And watched the roses, which were full of dew,
But didn't know that roses shed tears, too.
poem by Al. O. Teodoreanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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Autumn comes [Întomnare]
The stars mirrored by the lake, among water lily leaves,
Turned the lake into a glade, fire flies into small stars,
And this glade appears to glow, as if amber snow receives,
Because golden drops stand out like the tips of lit cigars.
When the lucent night puts on a fair vestment in this hush,
The frogs stop to wail at once and keep silent for a while;
And the moon on water, lo, like a saint begins to rush,
Withering the frightened leaves with its wry and deadly smile.
poem by Al. O. Teodoreanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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