ION BARBU

POSTED IN Romanian December 23, 2021

ION BARBU

1. Dupa melci

Dintr-atatia frati mai mari:
Unii morti,
Altii plugari
Dintr-atatia frati mai mici:
Prunci de treaba,
Scunzi, peltici,
Numai eu rasad mai rău
Mai nauc, mai natarau,
Dintr-atatia (prin ce har?)
Mă brodisem sui, hoinar.

Eram mult mai prost pe-atunci…

Când Paresim da prin lunci
Cu pietrisul de albine,
Ne parea la toti mai bine:
Tanci ursuzi,
Desculti si uzi
Fetiscane
(Cozi plavane)
Infasate-n lungi zavelci
O porneau în turma bleaga
Să culeaga
Ierburi noi, craite, melci…

Era umed la bordei
Si tuleam si eu cu ei.

I

Tot asa o data, iar,
La un sfant prin Faurar
Ori la sfintii Mucenici
Tarla noastra de pitici
Odihnea pe creasta, sus,
– Eu voinic prea tare nu-s.
Rupt din fuga
Subt o gluga
De-alunis, pe-o buturuga
Odihnii
Si eu curand…

Vezi, atunci mi-a dat prin gând
Ca tot stand si alegand
Jos pe vraful de foi ude
Prin lastari si vrejuri crude,
S-ar putea să dau de el,
Melcul prost, incetinel…
In ungher adânc, un gând
Imi soptea ca melcul bland
Din mormant de foi, pe-aproape
Cheama Omul să-l dezgroape…

Si pornii la scotocit
(Cu noroc, căci l-am gasit)
Era tot o mogaldeata
Ochi de bou, dar cu albeata:
Intre el si ce-i afar’
Strejuia un zid de var.
-Ce să fac cu el asa?
Să-l arunc nu îmi venea…
Vream să vad cum se dezghioaca
Pui molatic, din ghioaca:
Vream să vad cum iar invie
Somnoros, din colivie…

Si de-a lungul, pe pământ
M-asezai cu acest descant:
– “Melc, melc,
Cotobelc,
Ghem vargat
Si ferecat;
Lasa noaptea din gaoace,
Melc natang si fă-te-ncoace
Nu e bine să te-ascunzi
Sub paretii grei si scunzi
Printre vreacuri cerne soare,
Colti de iarba pe razoare
Au zvacnit iar muguri noi
Pun pe ramura altoi.
Melc, melc,
Cotobelc,
Iarna leapada cojoace
Si tu singur în gaoace!
Hai, iesi,
Din cornoasele camesi!
Scoate patru firisoare
Stravezii, tremuratoare,
Scoate umede si mici
Patru fire de arnici;
Si agata la festile
Ciufulite de zambile
Sau la fir de margarint
Inzauatul tau argint…

Peste gardurile vii
Dinspre vii,
Ori de vrei si mai la vale,
In tarlale
-Tipareste brau de bale…”

Dupa ce l-am descantat
L-am pus jos
Si-am asteptat…

Inserase mai de-a bine
Crengi uscate peste mine,
Bazaind la vantul stramb
Imi ziceau rastiti din dramb…

Nazdravana de padure
Jumulita de secure,
Scurt, furis
Inghitea din luminis.
Din lemnoase vagauni,
Capcauni
Ii vedeam piezisi cum casca
Buze searbade de iasca;

Si intorsi
Ochi bubosi
Innoptau sub frunti pestrite
De parose
Si barboase
Joimarite.

Si cum stau sub vant si frig
Strans carlig,
-Iscodind cu ochii treji
Mai de sus de brana, drumul
Unde seara tese fumul
Multor mreji;
De sub vreascuri vazui bine
Repezita inspre mine
O gusata cu gateji.

Chiondoras
Cata la cale:
De pe sale,
Când la deal si când la vale,
Curgeau betele taras.
Iar din plosca ei de gusa
De matusa
Un taios, un aspru: hârrsi..

Plans prelung cum scoate fiara,
Plans dogit,
Când un sarpe-i musca ghiara,
Muget aspru si largit
De vuia din funduri seara…
-Mi-a fost frica, si-am fugit!

II

Toata noaptea viscoli…
In sat inca n-ajunsesem
Ca porni duium, să vie
O vifornita tarzie
De Paresemi.
Vântura, stârnind gâlceava
Alba pleava;
Si cadeau si maruntei
Bobi de mei…
(Ningea bine, cu temei).
In bordei
Foc vârtos mânca napraznic
Retevei.

Pe coliba singur paznic
M-au lasat c-un vraf de pene…
Rar, le culegeam alene:
Mosul Iene
Razbatea de prin poiene
Să-mi dea genele prin gene.
Si trudit,
Langa vatra prigonit
Privegheam prelung tăciunii…
Umbre dese,
Ca paunii,
Imi roteau pe hornul sui
Leasa ochilor verzui.

Si-mi ziceam în gând:
“Dar el,
Melcul, prost, incetinel?
Tremura-n ghioaca, varga,
Nu cumva un vant să-l sparga:
Roagă vantul să nu-l fure
Si să nu mai biciuiasca
Barbi de muschi, obraji de iasca,
Prin padure.
Roaga vantul să se-ndure”

De la jarul straveziu,
Mai tarziu,
Somnoros venii la geam.
(Era ‘nalt, nu ajungeam.)
Dar prin sticla petecita,
Si prin ghiata încâlcita,
Fulgera cand des, cand rar,
Prapadenia de-afar’:
Podul lumii se surpase
Iar pe case,
Pana sus, peste colnic,
Albicioase
Ori foioase
Cadeau cepi de arbagic.

Mi-adusei atunci aminte.
C-auzisem mai ‘nainte,
De o noapte intre toate
Urgisita,
Când, pe coate,
Guri spurcate
Suflă vant
Să dărâme
Din pământ…
Când, pe-un sloi, rupând din pita,
Baba Dochia-învălită
Cu opt sarici
Sta covrig,
Sta, înghite
Si sughite
Si se vaicara
De frig.
– Hei, e noaptea-aceea poate!

Inapoi
La fulgii moi
Cumpenind a somn, pe coate,
Cu tot gandul, sus, la-el,
Soptii:
“Melc incetinel,
Cum n-ai vrut să iesi mai iute!
Nici vifornită, nici mute
Prin paduri nu te-ar fi prins…
Iar acum, când focu-i stins,
Hornul nins,
Am fi doi s-alegem pene
Si alene
Să chemam pe mosul Iene
Din poiene,
Să ne-nchida:
Mie, gene;
Tie,
Cornul drept,
Cel stâng,
Binisor,
Pe când se frâng
Lemne-n crâng,
Melc natâng,
Melc natâng!”

III

Dintre pene si cotoare
Gata nins,
Cum mija un pic de soare
Pe întins
(In câmpie
Colilie
Razboind cu lunecusul
Şi pieziş la povârniş
Din ţăpoi săltând urcuşul,)
Mă-ntorsei sub aluniş
Şi-l zării lângă culcuşu-i
De frunziş
Era, tot, o scorojita
Limba vanata, sucita,
O nuia, ea un hengher
Il tinea în zgarzi de ger!
Zale reci,
Aspre benti ce se-întretaie,
Sus, pe vreascurile seci,
Il prindeau:
O frunza moarta, cu pastaie.
Si pe trupul lui zgarcit
M-am plecat
Si l-am bocit:

– “Melc, melc, ce-ai făcut
Din somn cum te-ai desfacut?
Ai crezut în vorba mea
Prefacuta… Ea glumea!
Ai crezut ca ploua soare,
C-a dat iarba pe razoare,
Ca alunul e un cantec…
– Astea-s vorbe si descantec!

Trebuia să dormi ca ieri,
Surd la cânt si imbieri,
Să tragi alt oblon de var
intre trup si ce-i afar’…
– Vezi?
Iesisi la un descantec;
Iarna ti-a muscat din pântec…
Ai pornit spre lunci si crâng,
Dar pornisi cu cornul stâng,
Melc natâng,
Melc natâng!”

Iar când vrui să-l mai alint
Intinsei o mâna-amara
De plans mult….
si, dârdâind,
Doua coarne de argint
Rasucit, se fărâmară.
Ca e ciunt, nu m-am uitat…
Ci, în punga lui cu bale,
Cu-insutite griji, pe cale
L-am purtat
Leganat:

Punga mica de matasa…
Iar acasa
L-am pus bine
Sus, în pod
(Tot langa mine),
Ca să-i cânt din când în când
Fie tare
Fie-n gând:
“Melc, melc,
Cotobelc,
Ploua soare
Prin fâneturi si razoare,
Lujerii te-asteapta-în crâng

Dar n-ai corn
Nici drept,
Nici stâng;
Sunt în sân la mosul Iene
Din poiene:
Cornul drept,
Cornul stâng…

– Iarna coarnele se frâng,
Melc natâng,
Melc natâng!”

 

 

 

 

Looking for snails

Of so many elder brothers:
Some dead,
Ploughmen being the others
Of so many younger brothers:
Good kids,
Short, lisping the others,
Only me, bad egg, you see,
Silly, goofy, that was me,
Of so many (by what grace?)
I turned out an oddball, scarce.

I was way much foolish then …

When Lent over grove began
On the gravel with bee buzz
We were happier, all of us:
Sulky brats set
Barefoot, wet
Charming girls
(Blond hair tails)
Wrapped in long skirts with details
In a foolish flock they were
Looking for
Fresh herbs, marigolds, and snails …
The hut was a damp mayhem
So, I’d hit the road with them.

I

Once again, the same way,
on a February’s Day
Or the holy Martyrs time
Our whipsters’ herd with grime
Was resting up on the ridge
– I’m not tougher than a snitch.
Run I could
Under a hood
Of hurst, sitting on a wood
Soon I’ve rested
easily

Then it crossed my mind, you see
As I stood there on my knee
Down the pile of wet leaves tween
Through the twigs and haulms too green
I might find him, small and frail
The naive, slow-moving snail …
From deep corner, a thought pale
Whispered me that gentle snail
From a pile of leaves, close by
Calls the Man to dig him high …

And rummaging through I started
(With good luck because I found it)
It was all a thing abstract
Ox eye with a cataract.
Between him and outside
Was guarding a wall to hide.
-What to do with him like that?
To throw it, I had no heart …
I wanted to see him hatch
Soft chick, from eggshells detach:
I wanted to see reviving
Sleepy, from the cage of hiding …

And along the ground in panting
I sat down, with quiet chanting:
– “Snail, snail,
Dearest frail,
Striped ball
Confined all.
Leave the darkness of the shell,
Snail naive and get rebel
It’s not good to hide your soul
Beneath the heavy, straight wall
Through the brushwood sifts the sun
Blades of grass grew more than one
Throbbing green and newborn buds
On each branch they put their grafts

Snail, snail,
Dearest frail,
Winter sheds its coats with spell
And you hide alone in shell!
Come on, out,
From your many shirts of doubt!
Bring out four gentle threads
Pellucid, quivering heads
Bring out wet, and small, alive
Four twisted threads to revive.
And cling to the rushlight scents
Disheveled of hyacinths
Or to lily of the valley
Your silver sheathing challis …

Over hedges vagary
From grapery,
Or much further down the valley,
On fields dally
-Print your slobber belt of doily… “

Slowly, after I enchanted
I put it down
And I waited …

It was really getting dark
Dry branches over me lurk,
Crackling in the crooked wind
Yelled at me with harsh entwined…

The bewitched forest chucked
By the hatchet stripped and plucked
Stealthily, fast
Swallowed the clearing amassed.
From the hollows of the trees,
Ogres seize
I’d see open large, askew
Dried lips of a spongeous shrew.
Twisted lies
Bubbling eyes
Hidden under huge foreheads
Of some hairy
Bearded scary
Witchy dreads.

As I stood in the cold nook,
Tight as hook,
Peering with eyes widely scanning
The road, from above the trail
Where the evening weaves the veil
of lots cunning,
Under brushwood I saw well
Jumping at me from the hell
A goiter with throats all strumming.

Squinting
poked prying the way:
now the hill and now the valley,
Ugly rags were flowing crawling,
From her huge goiter askant
Of an aunt
It came a sound deeply blunt…

Roaring howl as from a beast
Hideaway,
When a snake bites its claw, pierced
Rough, wide bellow from astray
That the night rumbled its twist …
– I was scared and ran away!

II

All night blizzards had their say …
Hadn’t reached the village yet,
When deluge was storming raw
Late and heavy fall of snow
Easter lent.
Wind quarreling with the snow,
White chaff though
Falling little snowflakes streams
Jolly beans …
(Snowing rightly so, it seems)
The hut dreams
Hungry fire wildly eating
Woody sticks.

In the whole hut lonely guarding
Been left with a feathers’ pile,
Picking them up for a while …
Sandman’s smile
Kept coming from clearings’ mile
To close my eyelids with guile.
Tired face
By fireplace,
Lingeringly over embers looking …
Thick shadows like peacocks peeking
Spinning on my chimney highs
Trellis of the greenish eyes.

Talking to myself:
“But he,
Silly, slow snail, who can’t see?
Shivers in his shell, alone
Any wind could break his bone,
Beg the wind to steal him not
And stop whipping over peaks
Muscle beards, spongious cheeks
Forest lot.
Beg the wind for mercy aught.”

From the embers’ light upon
Later on
I came to the window spot
(It was tall, I’d reach it not.)
Yet through all the patched glass,
And through all the tangled ice,
Flashed often or rare with glide
The havoc of outside
The world’s attic broke in ravage
And on cottage,
Everywhere up to the hill,
Whitish seals
many peels
Little onions falling still.
I remembered then, abhor,
Something that I’ve heard before,
Of a night like no one other
Cursed, when wicked creatures smother,
Filthy mouths blow wind around
To tear down all from the ground …
Breaking pita, on icefloe
The Old Dokia – wrapped in snow
With eight coats
sits curled up,
When she swallows
hiccup follows
And she grumbles
in cold’s trap.
– Hey, that night could be, who knows!

No breaks,
Back to the soft flakes
Sleepy, standing on my elbows,
Thinking of him, no avail
Whispering:
“Snail, slowly snail,
Why you didn’t go out faster!
No storm, no other disaster
Wouldn’t catch you in the wood…
And now, when fire is mute,
Chimney snowed
We’d be both feathers to choose
And at ease
We’d call Sandman from the trees
To close:
To me
Eyes;
To you,
Right horn,
then the left,
Easy,
While they break with cleft
Wood bereft,
Snail not deft
Snail not deft!

III

From the fluffy feathers flowed,
Really snowed,
How a little sun was shining
On wide road
(On the field
way revealed
Strongly with the slipper fighting
And elope to the slope
With pitchfork pushing the climbing,)
I returned to coppice, hope
And I saw him, his declining
Foliage top
He was just a shriveled thing
Bruised and twisted tongue in ring
Ice frozen wand, with a spite
Held him in collar frostbite!
Frozen slime,
Harsh ribbons that intertwine
Up on the dry brushwood grime
They caught him:
A dead leaf with soul so fine.
On his body dead and slim
I bowed
And I mourned for him:

“Snail, snail, in my keep,
Why you’ve got out of your sleep?
You believed my word pretending
Fake word, snail…I was just kidding!
You thought it was raining light
and the fields with grass delight,
That the coppice all is well…
These are only words and spell!

Should have slept like yesterday,
Deaf to the song, lure astray
Put another shutter shell
Between you and what’s out there …
– See?
You came out to a spelly;
Winter has bitten your belly …
You set off for meadows trail,
But the left horn’s starting fail
Naive Snail,
Naive Snail!”

When I wanted to caress him,
I held out my bitter palm
Of much crying …
And shivering,
Two horns with a silver beam
Twisted, they shattered in spasm.

That was crippled, I didn’t care,
And in his slobber display,
Worried deeply, on the way
I carried it
Rocking fit:
A small silky bag as dome
And at home
I put him well
In the attic
(Both to dwell),
Sometimes to sing him so kind
Either loud or in my mind:
“Snail, snail
Dearest frail,
It’s raining sun
Through the hayfields and groves’ run,
Flowers call you to the heft,
But no horn
Not right,
Not left.
They’re at Sandman’s bosom sough,
From the meadow:
The right horn,
The left horn …

Winter leaves you for the mourn,
Snail torn
Snail torn! “

 

 

 

 

2. Riga crypto si lapona enigel

Menestrel trist, mai aburit
Ca vinul vechi ciocnit la nuntă,
De cuscrul mare dăruit
Cu pungi, panglici, beteli cu funtă,

Mult îndărătnic menestrel,
Un cântec larg tot mai încearcă,
Zi-mi de lapona Enigel
Şi Crypto, regele-ciupearcă!

– Nuntaş fruntaş!
Ospăţul tău limba mi-a fript-o,
Dar, cântecul, tot zice-l-aş,
Cu Enigel şi riga Crypto.

– Zi-l menestrel!
Cu foc l-ai zis acum o vară;
Azi zi-mi-l strâns, încetinel,
La spartul nunţii, în cămară.

Des cercetat de pădureţi
În pat de râu şi-n humă unsă,
Împărăţea peste bureţi
Crai Crypto, inimă ascunsă,

La vecinic tron, de rouă parcă!
Dar printre ei bârfeau bureţii
De-o vrăjitoare mânătarcă,
De la fântâna tinereţii.

Şi răi ghioci şi toporaşi
Din gropi ieşeau să-l ocărască,
Sterp îl făceau şi nărăvaş,
Că nu voia să înflorească.

În ţări de gheaţă urgisită,
Pe-acelaşi timp trăia cu el,
Laponă mică, liniştită,
Cu piei, pre nume Enigel.

De la iernat, la păşunat,
În noul an, să-şi ducă renii,
Prin aer ud, tot mai la sud,
Ea poposi pe muşchiul crud
La Crypto, mirele poienii.

Pe trei covoare de răcoare
Lin adormi, torcând verdeaţă:
Când lângă sân, un rigă spân,
Cu eunucul lui bătrân,
Veni s-o-mbie, cu dulceaţă:

– Enigel, Enigel,
Ţi-am adus dulceaţă, iacă.
Uite fragi, ţie dragi,
Ia-i şi toarnă-i în puiacă.

– Rigă spân, de la sân,
Mulţumesc Dumitale.
Eu mă duc să culeg
Fragii fragezi, mai la vale.

-Enigel, Enigel,
Scade noaptea, ies lumine,
Dacă pleci să culegi,
Începi, rogu-te, cu mine.

-Te-aş culege, rigă blând…
Zorile încep să joace
Şi eşti umed şi plăpând:
Teamă mi-e, te frângi curând,
Lasă. – Aşteaptă de te coace.

-Să mă coc, Enigel,
Mult aş vrea, dar vezi, de soare,
Visuri sute, de măcel,
Mă despart. E roşu, mare,
Pete are fel de fel;
Lasă-l, uită-l, Enigel,
În somn fraged şi răcoare.

– Rigă Crypto, rigă Crypto,
Ca o lamă de blestem
Vorba-n inimă-ai înfipt-o!
Eu de umbră mult mă tem,

Că dacă-n iarnă sunt făcută,
Şi ursul alb mi-e vărul drept,
Din umbra deasă, desfăcută,
Mă-nchin la soarele-nţelept.

La lămpi de gheaţă, supt zăpezi,
Tot polul meu un vis visează.
Greu taler scump cu margini verzi
De aur, visu-i cercetează.

Mă-nchin la soarele-nţelept,
Că sufletu-i fântână-n piept,
Şi roata albă mi-e stăpână,
Ce zace-n sufletul-fântână.

La soare, roata se măreşte;
La umbră, numai carnea creşte
Şi somn e carnea, se dezumflă,
Dar vânt şi umbră iar o umflă…

Frumos vorbi şi subţirel
Lapona dreaptă, Enigel,
Dar timpul, vezi, nu adăsta,
Iar soarele acuma sta
Svârlit în sus, ca un inel.

– Plângi, preacuminte Enigel!
Lui Crypto, regele-ciupearcă.
Lumina iute cum să-i placă?
El se desface uşurel
De Enigel,
De partea umbrei moi, să treacă…

Dar soarele, aprins inel,
Se oglindi adânc în el;
De zece ori, fără sfială,
Se oglindi în pielea-i cheală.

Şi sucul dulce înăcreşte!
Ascunsa-i inimă plesneşte,
Spre zece vii peceţi de semn,
Venin şi roşu untdelemn
Mustesc din funduri de blestem;

Că-i greu mult soare să îndure
Ciupearcă crudă de pădure,
Că sufletul nu e fântână
Decât la om, fiară bătrână,
Iar la făptură mai firavă
Pahar e gândul, cu otravă,

Ca la nebunul rigă Crypto,
Ce focul inima i-a fript-o,
De a rămas să rătăcească
Cu altă faţă, mai crăiască:

Cu Laurul-Balaurul,
Să toarne-n lume aurul,
Să-l toace, gol la drum să iasă,
Cu măsălariţa-mireasă,
Să-i ţie de împărăteasă.

 

 

 

 

 

 

King crypto and Laplander Enigel

Sad minstrel, much steamier
Than good old wine served at the wedding
By the groom’s father given there
With bags and ribbons, tinsel weaving,

Of all most stubborn minstrel
A grand old song still tries to sing,
Sing of Laplander Enigel,
And Crypto, the mushroom-king!

You, guest with quest!
Your feast, my tongue did burn and sting,
I’ll sing that song, with candid zest,
Of Enigel and Crypto king.

Sing it minstrel!
You sang it fierly yester-summer.
Now sing it to me slowly, well,
At wedding’s end, you, cellar charmer.

*

Oft searched by forests’ creatures wild
In riverbed, anointed clay,
Ruled over mushrooms’ fleshy mild
King Crypto, hidden heart, astray

On some eternal dewy throne!
But mushrooms gossiped, anyway
About a witch called Penny Bun
From the youth fountain, who could say.

And hateful snowdrops, violet
From dampy pits were cursing sour,
Calling him fruitless, balky yet
Because he didn’t want to flower.

In lands forever doomed by ice,
At the same time living as well,
A small Laplander, quiet and wise,
With furs, named sweetly Enigel.

From winter snow ’til grazing glow
In the new year her reindeers bring,
Through the wet time, further south clime
On the raw moss she found confine’
Near Crypto, meadow’s groom and king.

On three rugs’ grace of freshness
Gently she slept, spinning the grass
When near chest string, a glabrous king,
With his old eunuch and his ring,
Came luring her with jam in glass:

– Enigel, Enigel,
Look, I brought you jam that’s sweet.
Berries too, dear to you
Take them all, enjoy and eat.

– Glabrous king smart, from my heart
Thank you for your gracious will
But I go to to pick up
Fresh berries from down the hill.

– Enigel, Enigel,
Night decreases, light comes through,
If you go to pick up,
Start with me, I beg of you.

– Gentle king, I’d pick you, pray…
But the dawn begins to burst
And you’re damp and feeble clay:
I fear that soon you’ll decay,
Leave me. – Wait you ripen first.

– I to ripen, Enigel,
How I’d wish, but from the sun,
Hundreds of nightmares, repel
Cut me off. He’s red, the one,
Lots of spots make him unwell.
Please forget him Enigel,
Tender sleep, in freshness done.

– Crypto king, Crypto king,
Like a blade of curse severe
In my heart you stuck your saying
For the shadow I do fear,

For if in winter I was born,
And cousin to the polar bear
From the thick shadow I’ve been drawn
To the wise sun, I bow in prayer.

Under ice lamps, under snow’s pledge
My whole pole dreams only one dream.
Large golden platter with green edge
The dream is haunting with a gleam.

I bow to the wise sun as whole
For fountain is the heart and soul,
And the white wheel my master is,
In the soul-fountain lies and lives.

In sunlight, the wheel larger glows.
In shadow, only the flesh grows.
And flesh means sleep, it will decline,
Just wind and shadow make it fine …

Wisely spoke, shyly and well
Little Laplander, Enigel,
But time, you see, was waiting not,
And the sun stood now, large and hot,
Up in the sky, a ring of spell.
– Weep, you, kindhearted Enigel!
How Crypto could, the mushroom king,
Love the hot light, which death may bring?
He unwinds easily, unwell,
From Enigel,
To the soft shadow side to swing…

But the sun, hot fiery ring,
Mirrored deeply inside the king.
Ten times, without shame or chagrin
Reflected on his bald pale skin.

And all that’s sweet, sour becomes!
His hidden heart bursts into crumbs,
Ten lively signs of seals conceal
Venom, red oil to ordeal
Brew from the depths of curse’s seal.

For the frail mushroom from the wood,
It’s hard to bear the sunlight shrewd,
For the soul is a fountain feast,
Only for human, ancient beast,
And for a creature way too frail
The thought is glass of poisonous spell,

– Like for the foolish Crypto Sire
Whose heart was burned by the love’s fire,
Left now to wander aimlessly
With other beings, more royally:

With Dragon old, creature called,
To pour gold into the world,
To chop it, naked on the road,
With Penny Bun wedding to mold,
His queen forever to behold.

 

 

 

3. Din ceas dedus

Din ceas, dedus adâncul acestei calme creste,
Intrată prin oglindă în mântuit azur,
Tăind pe înecarea cirezilor agreste,
În grupurile apei, un joc secund, mai pur.

Nadir latent! Poetul ridică însumarea
De harfe resfirate ce-n zbor invers le pierzi
Şi cântec istoveşte: ascuns, cum numai marea
Meduzele când plimbă sub clopotele verzi.

 

 

 

 

From time, deducted

From time, deducted the depth of this calm crest,
Entered through the mirror into redeemed azure,
Engraving on the drowning of the rustic herds’ quest,
Inside the water’s matter, a mirrored game, much pure.

Latent nadir! The poet raises the summing plea
Of breathless harps lost in a reverse flight
And song exhausts: hidden, like only the sea
Swaying its Medusas under the green bells of light.

 

 

 

4. Umanizare

Castelul tau de ghiata l-am cunoscut gindire:
Sub tristele-i arcade mult timp am ratacit
De noi rasfringeri dornic, dar nicio oglindire,
In stinsele cristale ce-ascunzi, nu mi-a vorbit.

Am parasit in urma grandoarea ta polara
Si-am mers, si-am mers spre caldul pamint de miazazi,
Si sub un pilc de arbori stufosi, in fapt de seara,
Cararea mea, surprinsa de umbra, se opri.

Sub acel pilc de arbori salbateci, in amurg,
mi-ai aparut – sub chipuri necunoscute mie,
Cum nu erai acolo, in frigurosul burg,
Tu, muzica a formei in zbor, Euritmie!

Sub infloritii arbori, sub ochiul meu uimit,
Te-ai resorbit in sunet, in linie, culoare,
Te-ai revarsat in lucruri, cum in eternul mit
Se revarsa divinul in luturi pieritoare.

O, cum intregul suflet, al meu, ar fi voit
Cu cercul undei tale prelungi sa se dilate,
Sa spintece vazduhul si – larg si inmiit –
Sa simta ca vibraza in lumi nenumarate…

Si-n acel fapt de seara, uitindu-ma spre Nord,
In ceasul cind penumbra la orizont descreste
Iar seara intirzie un somnolent acord,
Mi s-a parut ca domul de ghiata se topeste.

 

 

 

 

Humanization

I was meant to know your ice castle, Mind:
Under its saddened arcades I wandered a long time
Eager for new reflections, yet not one mirrored find,
Hidden in faded crystals, to me won’t even chime.

I left behind me your polar splendor glow
I walked and walked towards the warmer southern land,
When, at dusk, near a cluster of bushy trees, below
My path, caught by the shadow, stopped to understand.

There, below that cluster of wild trees, in dusk’s light,
you showed up – many faces, ’till then unknown to me
The way I’ve never seen you in that cold, icy site
You, music of all forms in flight, Eurythmy!

Under the trees with blossoms and my astonished eye,
You drank yourself in sound, in line, in colored way
You poured yourself into things, like the eternal why
The divine poured himself into perishable clay.

Oh, how my entire soul would have wanted it to hold
To widen with the circle of your prolonged wave
To break the heaven and – enlarged and thousandfold –
To feel that it vibrates in countless worlds brave…

And then, while looking North, that sleepy hour evening,
That hour when the shadow on the horizon dies
And the evening delays a drowsy understanding,
It seemed to me the ice dome was melting in the skies.

 

 

 

 

5. Timbru

Cimpoiul veşted luncii, sau fluierul în drum
Durerea divizată o sună-ncet, mai tare…
Dar piatra-n rugăciune, a humei despuiare
Şi unda logodită sub cer, vor spune – cum?

Ar trebui un cântec încăpător, precum
Foşnirea mătăsoasă a mărilor cu sare;
Ori lauda grădinii de îngeri, când răsare
Din coasta bărbătească al Evei trunchi de fum.

 

 

 

Sound

The meadow’s scorched bagpipe, the whistle of the road, now
Sound the divided pain in slow and louder way …
Yet the stone in prayer, the stripping of the clay,
The wave betrothed under the sky; they will say – how?

Should be a spacious song, large enough to relive
The silky rustle of the salty seas morphosis
Or the praise of the garden of angels when it rises
From the rib of the man the smoky frame of Eve.

 

 

 

6. Oul dogmatic

Dogma: Şi duhul Sfânt se
purta deasupra apelor

E dat acestui trist norod
Si oul sterp ca de mâncare,
Dar viul ou, la vârf cu plod,
Făcut e să-l privim la soare!

Cum lumea veche, în clestar,
Înoată, în subtire var,
Nevinovatul, noul ou,
Palat de nuntă si cavou.

Din trei atlazuri e culcusul
În care doarme nins albusul
Atât de gales, de închis,
Cu trupul drag surpat în vis.

Dar plodul?
De foarte sus
Din polul plus
De unde glodul
Pământurilor n-a ajuns
Acordă lin
Si masculin
Albusului în hialin :
Sărutul plin.

Om uitător, ireversibil,
Vezi Duhul Sfânt făcut sensibil?
Precum atunci, si azi — întocma :
Mărunte lumi păstrează dogma.

Să vezi la bolti pe Sfântul Duh
Veghind vii ape fără stuh,
Acest ou — simbol ti-l aduc,
Om sters, uituc.

Nu oul rosu.
Om fără sat si om nerod,
Un ou cu plod
Îti vreau plocon, acum de Paste:
Îl urcă — în soare si cunoaste!

Si mai ales te înfioară
De acel galben icusar,
Ceasornic fără minutar
Ce singur scrie când să moară
Si ou si lume. Te-înfioară
De ceasul, galben necesar…
A mortii frunte — acolo-i toată.
În gălbenus,
Să roadă spornicul albus,
Durata-înscrie-în noi o roată.
Întocma — dogma.

Încă o dată:
E Oul celui sterp la fel,
Dar nu-l sorbi. Curmi nuntă-în el.
Si nici la closcă să nu-l pui!
Îl lasă — în pacea — întâie-a lui,

Că vinovat e tot făcutul,
Si sfânt, doar nunta, începutul.

 

 

 

The Dogmatic Egg

Dogma: And the Spirit of God
was hovering over the face of the waters

It’s given to these humble folk
The barren egg for daily meal,
The egg with life, topped with the yolk,
Was meant in light his seal reveal!

As the old world, in crystal prime,
Swims, in the thin intended lime
The innocent, new egg-encrypt
A wedding palace and a crypt.

Of satin three the shelter is
In which the egg snow whitely sleeps
So passive, so enclosed in beam
With a dear body lost in dream.

But what of seed?
From very tall
From the plus pole
Where mud of need
Has never touched the very soul
He offers keen
And masculine
To the whites in hyaline
A kiss pristine.

Careless man, beyond the render
Do you see Holy Spirit tender?
Today as long ago – the same
Small worlds keep dogma as a frame.

To see The Spirit in vault creeds
Watching live waters without reeds,
This egg – symbol to you I bring,
Dull, careless being.

Not the red egg.
Man without village, barren speck,
An egg alive
I want it pledge, for Easter thrive:
Put it – in sunlight, look and strive!

And most of all shudder you must
Seeing that yellow coin withstands,
Old clock without a minute hand
Which alone writes when to die just
Egg and world both. Shudder fast
At the clock, yellow needed stand.
death’s forehead – it is all there.
Inside the yolk,
To bear the potent egg white soak,
Time – inscribes – a wheel in us, fair.
A karma – dogma.

And one more time:
The egg with life ‘s one with the dead,
Don’t sip it. Kill inside the wedd.
Don’t give it to the broody either
Leave – him alone – be a believer.
For guilty ‘s all that one is doing
But holy, just the wedd, beginning.

 

traducere, M. M. Biela