classic poetry
Poi che per mia ventura / Then for my fortune
POSTED IN classic poetry, translated Italian-English December 28, 2018
Poi che per mia ventura / Then for my fortunePoi che per mia ventura a veder torno
voi dolci colli, e voi, chiare e fresch’acque,
e tu, che tanto alla natura piacque
farti, sito gentil, vago ed adorno,
ben posso dire avventuroso il giorno,
e lodar sempre quel desio che nacque
in me di rivedervi, che pria giacque
morto nel cor di dolor cinto intorno.
Vi veggi’ or dunque, e tal dolcezza sento,
che quante mai dalla fortuna offese
ricevute ho finor, pongo in oblio.
Così sempre vi sia largo e cortese,
lochi beati, il ciel, come in me spento
è, se non di voi soli, ogni desio.VERONICA GAMBARA
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Then for my fortuneThen for my fortune to see I return,
you, sweet hills, and you, waters so fresh and clear
and you, who always held the nature so dear
I make you a place, gentle, vague, to adorn.Well, I can say adventurous the morn,
and always praise the desire that’s born
in me, again to see you, which first lay
dead in the heart surrounded by mourn.So we saw each other, and such sweetness I felt,
that more than ever by my offended fate
I’ve got punished, I place myself in oblivion.
So always there are wide and great,
blessed places, the sky, like those in me melt
there is, every desire, if not you alone.English version, Maria Magdalena
Hyvää Itsenäisyyspäivää!
POSTED IN classic poetry December 6, 2018
Hyvää Itsenäisyyspäivää!Jos on suurta tehty missä,
sit’ on tehty sydämissä,
kautta tarmon, kautta kunnon,
hyvän kautta omantunnon;
siell’ on Suomen juuret meillä,
jotka kestää elon teillä,
kestää, vaikk’ on vaara vakaa,
kuuluu vuosisatain takaa.Terve teille, Suomen suuret,
joill’ on synnyinmaassa juuret,
syvät niinkuin Suomen puilla,
syvemmät kuin meillä muilla;
kuka enin kärsi, vasta
häll’ on tieto maailmasta,
tunto isänmaankin oman,
armahan ja onnettoman.Vapaus, sana meille soipa,
Väinön virsi kaikkivoipa,
kauas kuulu, kauas kaiu,
Suomen rantamilla raiu!
Vapaus, teille vankilasta,
muille kerran koituu vasta,
mutta elää vapaa henki
halki Suomen surujenki.Eino Leino
La Rosa
POSTED IN classic poetry, Summer August 1, 2018
La Rosala inmarcesible rosa que no canto,
la que es peso y fragancia,
la del negro jardín en la alta noche,
la de cualquier jardín y cualquier tarde,
la rosa que resurge de la tenue
ceniza por el arte de la alquimia,
la rosa de los persas y de Ariosto,
la que siempre está sola,
la que siempre es la rosa de las rosas,
la joven flor platónica,
la ardiente y ciega rosa que no canto,
la rosa inalcanzable.Jorge Luis Borges
Les nourritures spirituelle
POSTED IN classic poetry, Summer July 30, 2018
Les nourritures spirituelle
Magdalena
Layla and Majnun
POSTED IN classic poetry, Summer July 30, 2018
Layla and MajnunShow me
the most damaged
parts of your soul
and I will show you
how it still shines like gold…
Nizami
La o fotografie
POSTED IN classic poetry July 6, 2018
La o fotografie
Mă uit privind fotografia
În care chipu-ţi stă cuprins
Şi de pe care vitregia
Nici o lumină n-a desprins.Eşti tot aşa ca altădată,
Precum erai şi te-am visat.
De ramă veşnic apărată,
La tine timpul n-a intrat.Prin marginile ei de piatră
Cu care dârz te-mprejmuii,
Chiar de-ar fi vrut să te lovească,
Duşmanul n-a putut lovi.Privesc la tine, cea de-afară
Ce-n nici o ramă nu te-ai vrut
Şi peste care timpul, fiară,
Ca toate fiarele-a trecut.De-ar fi să te găsesc acuma
După portret şi nu te-aş şti,
Aş răscoli întreaga lume
Şi nu te-aş mai putea găsi.Virgil Carianopol
Happy Birthday, Eino Leino!
POSTED IN classic poetry July 6, 2018
ErotessaMuistelen minä sinua:
satakielet soittelevat
yössäni hämärtyvässä.Muistelet sinä minua:
lepinkäiset lentelevät
pääsi päälle istumahan.Muistelemme toisiamme:
kaksi kaunista kesällä
kesälehti kolmantena.Eino Leino
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Apart
Remember you, love at first sight,
nightingales sing in empty soul
in darkness of my empty night.Remember me, love at first sight,
shrikes fly in legends of the fall
and sit on your head in light.We are remembering each other
two beautiful in summer time
a summer leaf – three summer chime.translated by Maria Magdalena Biela
Le livre de rire et de l’oubli
POSTED IN classic poetry, Summer June 12, 2018
Le livre de rire et de l’oubli
On crie qu’on veut façonner un avenir meilleur, mais ce n’est pas vrais.
L’avenir n’est qu’un vide indifférent qui n’intéresse personne, mais le passé est plein de vie et son visage irrite, révolte, blesse au point que nous voulons le détruire ou le repeindre.
On ne veut être maître de l’avenir que pour pouvoir changer le passé.Milan Kundera
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The book of laughter and forgetting
We are always shouting that we want to create a better future but this it is not true. The future is a careless void of no interest to anyone but the past is full of life and his face irritates , revolts, hurts us up to the point that we want either to destroy it or to repaint it.
The only reason we want to be masters of the future is to change the past.
Maria Magdalena Biela
Amantii mei sunt cartile-ntelepte
POSTED IN classic poetry, Summer June 2, 2018
Amantii mei sunt cartile-ntelepteAmantii mei sunt cartile-ntelepte
Amantii mei sunt vechi autori
Cu ei ades am impartit orgia
Din asfintitul serii pana-n zoriPlacerea mea e noaptea solitara
Cand obosita de-a vietii truda
Raman uitata in trista mea odaie
Sa pot sa plang ca nimeni sa m-audaSi pasiunea mea este vointa
de-a ma trudi pentru-o ideie mare
De-a risipi si ultima putere
ca visul sfant sa aiba intrupareNu pot ceti in taina grea a vietii
atatea noi adancuri se ascund
Dar intelesul ei prin suferinta
imi pare mult mai larg si mai profundAmantii mei sunt cartile-ntelepte
Amantii mei sunt vechi autori
Cu ei ades am impartit orgia
Din asfintitul serii pana-n zoriAmanti sublimi visare poezie
Si tu durere ce m-ai otelit
Prin voi am invatat ce este viata
Prin voi m-am inaltat si-am biruit.Agatha Grigorescu Bacovia
La lluvia / The Rain
POSTED IN classic poetry, Spring, translated Spanish-English May 4, 2018
La lluvia / The Rain
La lluvia tiene un vago secreto de ternura,
algo de somnolencia resignada y amable,
una música humilde se despierta con ella
que hace vibrar el alma dormida del paisaje.Es un besar azul que recibe la Tierra,
el mito primitivo que vuelve a realizarse.
El contacto ya frío de cielo y tierra viejos
con una mansedumbre de atardecer constante.Es la aurora del fruto. La que nos trae las flores
y nos unge de espíritu santo de los mares.
La que derrama vida sobre las sementeras
y en el alma tristeza de lo que no se sabe.La nostalgia terrible de una vida perdida,
el fatal sentimiento de haber nacido tarde,
o la ilusión inquieta de un mañana imposible
con la inquietud cercana del color de la carne.El amor se despierta en el gris de su ritmo,
nuestro cielo interior tiene un triunfo de sangre,
pero nuestro optimismo se convierte en tristeza
al contemplar las gotas muertas en los cristales.Y son las gotas: ojos de infinito que miran
al infinito blanco que les sirvió de madre.Cada gota de lluvia tiembla en el cristal turbio
y le dejan divinas heridas de diamante.
Son poetas del agua que han visto y que meditan
lo que la muchedumbre de los ríos no sabe.¡Oh lluvia silenciosa, sin tormentas ni vientos,
lluvia mansa y serena de esquila y luz suave,
lluvia buena y pacifica que eres la verdadera,
la que llorosa y triste sobre las cosas caes!¡Oh lluvia franciscana que llevas a tus gotas
almas de fuentes claras y humildes manantiales!
Cuando sobre los campos desciendes lentamente
las rosas de mi pecho con tus sonidos abres.El canto primitivo que dices al silencio
y la historia sonora que cuentas al ramaje
los comenta llorando mi corazón desierto
en un negro y profundo pentágrama sin clave.Mi alma tiene tristeza de la lluvia serena,
tristeza resignada de cosa irrealizable,
tengo en el horizonte un lucero encendido
y el corazón me impide que corra a contemplarte.¡Oh lluvia silenciosa que los árboles aman
y eres sobre el piano dulzura emocionante;
das al alma las mismas nieblas y resonancias.Federico Garcia Lorca
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THE RAINThe rain has a vague secret of tenderness,
some resigned and kind drowsiness,
a humble music wakes up with her
that makes the sleeping soul of the landscape vibrate.It’s a blue kiss that Earth receives,
the primitive myth that returns to be realized.
The already cold contact of old heaven and earth
with a meekness of a constant sunset.It’s the aurora of the fruit. The one that brings us the flowers
and anoints us with the holy spirit of the seas.
The one that spills life on the sowings
and in the soul sadness of what is not known.The terrible nostalgia of a lost life,
the fatal feeling of being born late,
or the restless illusion of an impossible tomorrow
with the inquietude close to the color of the flesh.Love wakes up in the gray of its rhythm,
our inner heaven has a triumph of blood,
but our optimism turns to sadness
when contemplating the drops dead in the crystals.And they are the drops: eyes of infinity that look
to the white infinity that served as their mother.Every drop of rain trembles in the cloudy crystal
and leave you divine diamond wounds.
They are poets of water who have seen and who meditate
what the crowd of the rivers does not know.¡Oh silent rain, without storms or winds,
gentle and serene rain of shearing and soft light,
good and peaceful rain that you are the true one,
the one that tearful and sad about things you fall!¡Oh Franciscan rain that you take to your drops
souls from clear sources and humble springs!
When on the fields you descend slowly
the roses of my chest with your sounds open.The primitive song that you say to silence
and the sound story that you tell the branches
tells them crying my desolate heart
in a black and deep pentagram without a key.My soul has the sadness of the serene rain,
the resigned sadness of helplessness
I have a lighted star on the horizon
and my heart stops me from running to look at you.¡Oh silent rain that the trees love
and you are on the piano exciting sweetness;
give to the soul the same mists and resonances
English version, Maria Magdalena Biela
