| D. H. Lawrence – Bavarian Gentians Not every man has gentians in his house in soft September, at slow, sad Michaelmas. Bavarian gentians, big and dark, only dark darkening the daytime, torch-like, with the smoking blueness of Pluto’s gloom, ribbed and torch-like, with their blaze of darkness spread blue down flattening into points, flattened under the sweep of white day torch-flower of the blue-smoking darkness, Pluto’s dark-blue daze, black lamps from the halls of Dis, burning dark blue, giving off darkness, blue darkness, as Demeter’s pale lamps give off light, lead me then, lead the way. Reach me a gentian, give me a torch! let me guide myself with the blue, forked torch of this flower down the darker and darker stairs, where blue is darkened on blueness even where Persephone goes, just now, from the frosted September to the sightless realm where darkness is awake upon the dark and Persephone herself is but a voice or a darkness invisible enfolded in the deeper dark of the arms Plutonic, and pierced with the passion of dense gloom, among the splendor of torches of darkness, shedding darkness on the lost bride and her groom. | Alina Mocanu – Gentiene de Bavaria Nu orisicine are gentiene-n casa-n luna blanda a lui Brumar, in ziua cea molateca si trista de Sfantul Mihail. Gentiene de Bavaria, imense, intunecate, inghitind lumina zilei, faclii fumegand albastru, albastrul mahnirii lui Pluton, torte brazdate de nervuri cu a lor stralucire neagra – albastruie, intinzandu-se in lumina zilei inundate de alb ; floare – torta a intunecarii albastre – fumurii, asemeni uluirii lui Pluton, negre felinare pe culoarele Infernului, cu flacara arzand albastru siniliu, rasfrangand intunecare, intunecare albastra, pe cand felinarele cenusii ale lui Demetrius lumina raspandesc. calauziti-ma dara, aratati-mi calea. Daruieste-mi o gentiana, o faclie, busola sa-mi fie lumina albastra a acestei flori – torte cu frunze bifurcate pe cand cobor treptele tot mai intunecate, unde cu fiecare pas, albastrul se intuneca tot mai mult, pe drumul Persefonei, acum, in racorosul Septembre catre taramul nestiut unde intunericul pe intuneric boteaza si din Persefona insasi mai ramane doar un glas sau intuneric fantomatic infasurat in mantia neagra de pe umerii lui Pluton, strapuns de obscuritatea patimasa, printre tortele intunecarii cu a lor splendoare, varsand intuneric peste mireasa ratacita si-al ei mire. |
TRANSLATION CAFÉ 2008, Nr. 23/January 15, 2008, Anny Ballardini, Translations from: Anny Ballardini – Someone else by Gabriela Moldovan – Altcineva
Anny Ballardini - Someone elseI woke up this morningand they had stolen my carmy house my bed my eyesmy mind my family my fatemy job my friendsleft there on the scorching groundI went downtown and got a plastic hearta couple of colored marbles for my...