Traduceri din lirica eminesciană. Cu ilustrații de Adina Romanescu – grupaj realizat de Pușa Roth și Costin Tuchilă

15 ianuarie 2020

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Lucifer (Luceafărul)

”There was, as in the fairy tales,
As ne’er in the time’s raid,
There was, of famous royal blood
A most beautiful maid.

She was her parents’ only child,
Bright like the sun at noon,
And like the virgin midst the saints
And among stars the moon.

From the deep shadow of the vaults
Her step now she directs
Toward a window: at its nook
Bright Lucifer expects.

She looks as in the distant seas
He rises, darts his rays
And leads the blackish, loaded ships
On the wet, moving, ways.

To look at him every night
Her soul her instincts spur;
And as he looks at her for weeks
He falls in love with her.

And as on her elbows she leans
Her temple and her whim
She feels in her heart and soul that
She falls in love with him.

And ev’ry night his stormy flames
More stormily renew
When in the shadow of the castle
She shows to his bright view.

And to her room with her slow steps
He bears his steps and aims
Weaving out of his sparkles cold
A toil of shaking flames.

And when she throws upon her bed
Her tired limbs and reposes,
He glides his hand along her breast
And her sweet eyelash closes.

And from her mirror on her shape
A beam has spread and burns,
On her big eyes that beat though closed
And on her face that turns.

Her smiles view him; the mirror shows
Him trembling in the nook
For he is plunging in her dreem
So that their souls may hook

She speaks with him in sleep and sighs
While her heart’s swelled veins drum:
«– O, sweet Lord of my fairy nights,
Why comest thou not? Come!

Descent to me, mild Lucifer,
Thou canst glide on a beam,
Enter my dwelling and my mind
And over my life gleam!» […]”

Traducere în limba engleză de Dimitrie Cuclin. Transcriere de Maria Cuconoiu

Hesperos

”Det var en gång, berättas det,
I sagorna besjungen
En prinsessa som alla vet
Som gåva fötts till kungen

Hans enda barn och gunstling fin
Den fagraste av tärnor
Jungfruglig uti tärnors ring
Som månen ibland stjärnor.

Från slottgemaket ses hon gå
Var kväll hon stegen vänder
Mot fönstret dit Hesperos då
Sin mörka skuggbild sänder.

Han över havet svävar ner
Och sprider sina strålars glans
Där svarta skeppen sig beger
Över vågor någonstans.

Var natt hans stjärna lyser klar
Av längtan själen fylles
Och kärlek het blir Hesperos svar
När månens sken förgylles.

Sitt huvud stilla lutar hon
Mot snövit hand i drömmar
Oss ljuvt förvillar kärlekstron
Till hennes själ den strömmar.

Var afton så hans stjärna klar
Till prinsessan kommer in
I fönstret syns, och hon så rar
I hans öga blickar in. […]”

Traducere în limba suedeză de Ion Miloș

L’astre du soir (Luceafărul)

”[…] Hyperion, d’en haut, voit tout:
Comme eux-mêmes se surprennent!
À peine il a touché son cou,
Qu’elle en ses bras l’entraîne !

Les vieux tilleuls effeuillent leurs fleurs
En embaumant le monde,
Et de pétales s’attachent à leurs
Luisantes tresses blondes.

Ivre d’amour elle lève ses yeux,
En frémissant sans cesse.
Voyant l’Astre du Soir aux cieux,
Ses vieux désirs renaissent.

«Que le charme froid de tes rayons
Pénètre ma pensée
Pour que la flamme de mes passions
S’éteigne toute apaisée

Reste au dessus de moi toujours
Et ma douleur achève,
Car tu es mon premier amour
Et mon dernier beau rêve.

Astre suave descends des cieux
Sur un rai de lumière,
Apporte en cette forêt tes feux,
Et ma bonne chance éclaire!»

Quand il l’entend, il tremble encor
Une fois. L’océan se ride,
Mais l’Astre mène vers leur bon port
Les grands bateaux qu’il guide.

Il ne quitte plus le ciel cette nuit
Et l’univers s’apaise:
«Que ce soit moi ou bien autrui,
T’importe image de glaise?

Vivez dans votre coin étroit
Vos chances éphémères
Tandis que, immortel et froid,
Je reste dans ma sphère!».”

Traducere în limba franceză de Dan Solomon, 1983

Satire III (Scrisoarea a III-a)

”[…] Are you then Rome’s descendants, you eunuchs and no men?
If you were men in earnest, pity it were that then
This hungry plague of locusts, these creatures crazed and lame
Dare part their lips in public and flatter without shame
Our nations majesty, and make it odious stand,
Dare even speak thy name… o miserable land!
In Paris pleasure houses, there has your congress been;
With jaded, worthless women, in revelry obscene,
In sloth and vulgar rioting you wasted wealth and youth;
In you what could develop, that empty are in sooth?

And, coming back, for wisdom a perfume flask you brought,
A monocle you flourished, a cane for sword you bought.
Withered up before your time, yet childish in your brain,
For scientific knowledge a Bal-Mabil refrain,
And all your father’s riches spent on some harlot’s shoe:
O admirable and worthy offspring of Romans, you!
And now just look with horror on faces sceptic cold,
What wonder that your falsehoods no more persuasion hold?
When those who speak fine phrases and lofty sermons give
Would simply fill their pockets, that they may lazy live,
Today the polished discourse does little credence know,
But others are the reasons, dear Sirs, is that not so?
Too much have you made riches and power your single aim,
Too much have brought our nation to ridicule and shame,
Too much you mocked the language and customs of this race,
That now at last your mocking does but yourselves disgrace,
While self was ever the craving that in your spirits stirred,
Genius? A nonsense. Virtue? But a word.

O, leave in the old chronicles our forefathers to rest;
For they would gaze upon you with irony at best.
Rise once more, o Tepes! Take and divide these men
As lunatics and rogues in two big tribes, and then
In mighty, twin infirmaries by force both tribes intern,
And with a single faggot prison and madhouse burn”.

Traducere în limba engleză de Corneliu M. Popescu (16 mai 1958, București – 4 martie 1977 București)

Le lac (Lacul)

”Les nénuphars jaunes emplissent
Le lac des forêts comme argent;
Il fait se balancer la barque
Et tressaille en cercles blancs.

Je passe tout au long des rives
Et je m’attends à chaque pas
Qu’elle surgisse des roseaux
Et qu’elle tombe dans mes bras.

Nous sauterons dans notre barque
Par la voix des eaux enivrées,
J’abandonnerai le timon,
Laissant les rames m’échapper;

Nous flotterons saisis du charme
Sous cette lune rayonnante –
Le vent bercera les roseaux
Les eaux chanteront ondoyantes!

Mais elle ne vient pas… Tout seul
Je soupire, je souffre en vain,
Les yeux perdus sur mon lac bleu,
Qui de lourds nénuphars est plein.”

Traducere în limba franceză de Veturia Drăgănescu-Vericeanu

El lago (Lacul)

”Los nenúfares dorados
Brillan en el agua zarca;
Ondas blancas estremecen
Una solitaria barca.

Y yo paso por el borde,
Tanto aguardo como acecho,
De entre cañas que ella surja
Y se pegue a mi pecho;

En cadencia de olas
Dulcemente flotaremos,
Ya nos llevará la barca,
Ya no hacen falta remos.

Con su luz la tierna luna
Nos ampliará el encanto,
Las caricias de la brisa
Nos irán acompañando.

Mas no viene… Son quimeras,
Ilusiones que me hago.
Sólo saben cuanto sufro
Los nenúfares del lago.”

Traducere în limba spaniolă de Paul Abucean

Je n’ai qu’un seul désir (Mai am un singur dor)

”Je n’ai qu’un seul désir:
Sous le couchant d’éther
Qu’on me laisse mourir
Près du bord de la mer;

Que mon sommeil soit doux
Et le vieux bois voisin,
Que mon ciel soit serein
Dessus les eaux partout.

Je ne veux pas de drapeaux
Ni un riche cercueil,
Mais seul un lit de feuilles
Fait de jeunes rameaux.

Que personne après moi
Ne pleure à mon chevet,
Seul l’automne m’envoie
Le chant de sa forêt.[…]”

Traducere în limba franceză de Octavian Clement

Sonnet IV (Venice/Veneția)

”Mighty Venice now has fallen low,
One hears no songs, no sound of festive balls;
On steps of marble and through gateways falls
The pallid moon’s unearthly silver glow.

Okeanos there his sorrow calls…
In him alone eternal youth does blow,
Yet on his bride would he his breath bestow,
The waves break plaintively against the walls.

The town is silent as a burial ground;
Only the priests of bygone days remain,
Saint Mark tolls sinister the midnight round;

In sombre tones his slow sibylline strain
He nightly speaks with smooth and cadenced sound;
«The dead, my child, no more come back again».”

Traducere în limba engleză de Corneliu M. Popescu

So duftig (Atât de fragedă)

”Du gleichst der weissen Kirschenbluete,
So duftig bist du, jung und zart;
Mein dunkler Lebenspfad ergluehte
In deiner Engelsgegenwart.

Den weichen Tepich ruehrst du kaum,
Die Seide knistert unterm Tritt;
Vom Kopf bis zu den Sohlen Traum,
Schwebst du im leichten Hauche mit.

Und aus des langen Kleides Falten
Steigst du wie Marmor auf, und gleich
Wird meine Seele aufgehalten
Im Auge glueck – und traenenreich.[…]”

Traducere în limba germană de Konrad Richter

Se avrai (De-aș avea)

”Se avrai per me un fiore
Dritto, dolce, pien’ d’amore,
Come sono quel’ di maggio,
Figlie dolci di un saggio,
Di quel’ pratto soridende,
Verde, dondole, perdente,
Ondegiando pian’ piano,
Sospirando ogni tanto. […]”

Traducere în limba italiană de Cătălin Găbureanu