| 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. | Nadina Visan – Gentiene de Bavaria Nu are-oricine gentiene-n casa In blind septembre, de trist Sin’ Mihail, Gentiane de Bavaria, mari, intunecoase, intunecoase doar Ce-ntuneca si ziua, asemeni unor torte care Fumega de-albastrul mohorit plutonic Striate si asemeni unor torte, cu explozia lor De intuneric ce intinde albastrul Culcat apoi in colturi, culcat de albii zori ce trec in tromba Flori-torta ale albastrului, fumegindului intuneric, Picla de un albastru-nchis ce-I a lui Pluto Lampi negre in saloanele din Dis, Arzind de-albastru-nchis, Raspindind intuneric, intuneric albastru, La fel cum palidele lampi ale Demetrei raspindesc lumina, Indrumati-ma, aratati-mi calea! O gentiana da-mi, o torta-ntinde-mi! Sa ma calauzesc cu torta-albastra, bifurcata a astei flori In jos pe scarile mereu mai neguroase, Unde albastrul se intuneca-n albastru Ba inca incotro se-ndreapta Persefona, Taman acum, din bruma lui septembre, Catre tinutul fara de vedere in care intunericul Pe intuneric se trezeste Iar Persefona, ea, e doar o voce Sau intuneric nevazut invaluita-n si mai intuneric Al bratelor plutonice, patrunsa de o involburata pasiune De picla deasa Intre splendoarea tortelor de intuneric, Ce leapada frinturi de intuneric Peste mire si pierduta sa mireasa. |
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...