| 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. | Valentin Popa – Gentiene de Bavaria Nu oricine tine gentiene de Bavaria in casa in Blandul Septembrie, de Sfantul Mihai cel trist si incet Gentiene de Bavaria, mari si intunecate, numai intunecate, intunecand lumina zilei, asemenei unor torte, cu albastrul fumuriul al austeritatii plutoniene, cu nervuri, asemeni unor torte, cu flacarile lor intunecate intinzandu-se albastru reduse la niste puncte, reduse de lumina navalnica a zilei floare-torta in intunericul albastru fumuriu, aura albastru intunecat a lui Pluto, lampi negre din incaperile din Dis, albastru intunecat arzator, emanand intuneric, intuneric albastru, asa cum lampile palide ale Demetrei emana lumina, duceti-ma acolo, aratati drumul. Intindeti-mi o gentiana, dati-mi o torta! lasati-ma sa ma iau dupa intuneric, torta bifurcata a acestei flori in jos pe scarile tot mai intunecate, unde albastrul devine tot mai intunecat in albastru drept acolo unde merge Persefona chiar acum, din inghetatul Septembrie spre taramul orb unde intunericul dainuie asupra intunericului si Persefona insasi este doar un glas sau un intuneric invizibil infasurat in intunericul si mai adanc al imbratisarii plutonice si strapuns de pasiunea densei austeritati in splendoarea tortelor intunericului, revarsand intuneric 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...