Impetus [Avânt]
As ships on the wide sea stop quickly for a while
Whenever the wind drops and sails perched on the mast
Hang down in calm repose under the moon's big smile,
But the bright silver rays in vain on them are cast;
As violin curbs its sound when strings too loose do lie
And hardly one can hear, as if he's fast asleep,
Nice and delightful notes, which fly above or die,
And all pervade the mind and their sweet charm is deep;
So in the griefs of life the poet cannot write,
His heart is in great pain and blood flows down his chest,
Dislikes the things around, deems nothing is all right,
And in his frozen soul all feelings are at rest.
The same is with the sailor aboard the ship that stopped,..
When the big boat was swimming to rise high he could dare,
The water reflects gently his lifeless looks that dropped
In its amazing mirror that stretches everywhere.
Those moments are so sad! Because beneath the stars
The poet's injured heart will quickly fall asleep
Like the majestic sea, but it is full of scars,
Because regret and hope can't sing in him, down deep.
But, as when calm dispels and breeze will blow instead
And suddenly the ship will tremble on the waves,
And its inflated sails will carry it ahead
Like if it were a steed which for free rein then craves;
So when the inspiration abruptly rise and shines
And unseen wings will carry them all up in the sky,
Will reappear on paper the ribbons of sweet lines,
And out of heavy body the soul begins to fly.
Lyrism and satire will play on his wide brow
Like thunders thrown by God down here with so much art,
And he, a novel Moses, will climb the mountain now
To plant some other laws inside the human heart.
No matter that behind is so much spite and hate
He laughs when evil men say words of him malign,
So high he aims and, lo, he is so bold and great,
That everything encircles: be earthly or divine!
And harmony he sees in all the worlds that live,
He penetrates the dark of the eternal All;
How matter boils he finds and passes through the sieve,
To follow in the depths the comets that will fall;
The science's frontiers he always will defy...
The atoms come to life, he feels them living there...
He hears when they are glad or when they wail and cry
In their eternal dance performed with so much care.
Among the people comes and knows to soothe them all,
His song will overflow and like the hyssop's bud,
Will clean and wash away the passions that enthrall...
Offense cannot afflict him, he's not afraid of flood;
Feels pity for all those whose soul will surely die,
The tyrant stops at once when with his whip is struck,
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poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Added by anonym
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