| 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. | Veronica Bala – Gentiane de Bavaria Nu orisicare om are-n casa gentiane in luna dulce de septembrie, de San’Mihai domol si trist. Gentiane de Bavaria, mari si intunecoase, complet intunecoase, care-ntuneca ziua, precum o faclie, cu albastrimea fumurie a beznei lui Pluto, ca facliile de nervuroase, cu-a lor strafulgerare de intuneric imprastie albastru strivindu-se punctiform, strivite de ivirea zilei albe, floare-faclie a intunecimii albastru-fumurii, betia lui Pluto intunecat-albastra, felinare negre de pe culoarele lui Dis, luminand albastru-nchis ce revarsa intuneric, intuneric albastru, precum revarsa lumina felinarele slabe ale Demetrei, indrumati-ma, dar, aratati-mi calea. Intindeti-mi o gentiana, dati-mi o faclie! Sa ma calauzesc cu faclia albastra bifurcata a astei flori de-a lungul treptelor tot mai intunecate, unde-albastrul se-ntuneca de la albastru chiar acolo unde paseste Persefona, in clipa-ceasta, de la septembriele brumar spre taramul nevazut in care intunericul rasare peste intunecime, iar Persefona insasi nu-i decat un glas sau un intuneric invizibil infasurat in jurul unui intuneric mai intens, cel al bratelor lui Pluto, si strapuns de patima beznei dense in splendoarea facliilor de intuneric, revarsand intuneric asupra mirelui si-a ratacitei lui mirese. |
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...