| 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. | Ramona Zamfirescu – Gentiene de Bavaria Nu orisicine are parte de gentiene in gradina sa la inceputul lui Septembrie intr-o zi molcoma si trista de Sfantul Mihail. Gentienele de Bavaria, mari si intunecate, care inunda lumina zilei cu intunecimea lor, ca niste torte, cu albastrimea fumurie a amurgului lui Pluto, torte arzand cu flacari intunecat-albastre stranse in puncte, domolite de zbuciumul unei zile dalbe flori-torta din albastrul fumuriu al intunericului, din uluirea lui Pluto albastru nascute, lampi negre venite parca de pe taramurile lumii de dincolo, arzand albastru inchis, raspandind intunericul, intuneric albastrui, asa acum lampile palpainde ale Demetrei raspandesc lumina, conduceti-ma dara, aratati-mi drumul. Culege-mi o gentiana, adu-mi o torta! ingaduie-mi sa-mi intrevad pasii la lumina albastra a tortei acestei florii in jos pe trepte in bezna din ce in ce mai adanca, acolo unde albastrul este inghitit de albastrime chiar si acolo unde paseste chiar acum Persefona, din inghetatul Septembrie spre taramul desert, acolo unde albastrul se hraneste cu intuneric iar Persefona insesi nu este decat o voce slaba, o forma invizibila de intuneric invaluita in intunecimea si mai apriga a bratelor lui Pluto, si strapunsa de pasiunea obscuritatii arzatoare, printre splendorile de torte ale intunericului, imprastiind misterul peste mireasa pierduta si mirele ei. |
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...