Nichita Stanescu - Dreptul la timp

Dreptul la timp

Tu ai un fel de paradis al tău
în care nu se spun cuvinte.
Uneori se mişcă dintr-un braţ
şi câteva frunze îţi cad inainte.
Cu ovalul feţei se stă înclinat
spre o lumină venind dintr-o parte
cu mult galben în ea şi multă lene,
cu trambuline pentru săritorii în moarte.
Tu ai un fel al tău senin
De-a ridica oraşele ca norii,
şi de-a muta secundele mereu
pe marginea de Sud a orei,
când aerul devine mov şi rece
şi harta serii fără margini,
şi-abia mai pot rămâne-n viaţă
mai respirând, cu ochii lungi, imagini.

(Nichita Stanescu)

The ballad of a dream

Under the violet sky crowded by savaging birds
She was running as if hypnotized
Between moaning monks and chattering children
Trying to find her way to her lost soul
To that light shouting form the end of the road
A frozen moment in a burning noon – that was she.
Stone walls were surrounding her,
Messengers shouting chants and rituals from afar,
Children painting her dreams on canvas
Magnolias from Mozambic spreading their sents in the black-walled room.
Inspiration of the song of drums,
And of the far-away sad whispering sea
All gathered silently to take her to a new place
Where the bazaar of sentiments could be forgotten,
Where no one can touch crystal dreams,
Where nobody would shatter rainbow childhood memories,
Where sky meets sea,
And where her senses would be assaulted by lilac cent and jasmine flowers,
Where doves sleep in her hands so her soul can rest in their flight to the skies,
Where peace and quiet cast a shadow over chaotic and abnormal;
But the bazaar of sentiments suddenly became the hectic place where she was,
Like falling from the sunless moon,
She landed in the sunny, amber noon.
Holy men talking to serpents in a long-forgotten language,
People to children were savage.
Fires were burning and seeds were roasted,
Pink scarf and rainbow-like “shalvars” were dancing in the wind
As ensigns of a secret, ancient culture.
Burning charcoals and cent of hashish mingled in an erotic inspiration,
A silent chaos was surrounding her,
Her dreams, her feelings
As she could now see the cracks in the walls
And the cracks in her souls.
Feeling like a borrowed dream, living in a borrowed life
She asked herself: “Where am I?”

Kindheit
von Rainer Maria Rilke
Da rinnt der Schule lange Angst und Zeit
mit Warten hin, mit lauter dumpfen Dingen.
O Einsamkeit, o schweres Zeitverbringen...
Und dann hinaus: die Straßen sprühn und klingen und auf den Plätzen die Fontänen springen
und in den Gärten wird die Welt so weit -.
Und durch das alles gehn im kleinen Kleid,
ganz anders als die andern gehn und gingen -:
O wunderliche Zeit, o Zeitverbringen,
o Einsamkeit.

Und in das alles fern hinauszuschauen:
Männer und Frauen; Männer, Männer, Frauen
und Kinder, welche anders sind und bunt;
und da ein Haus und dann und wann ein Hund
und Schrecken lautlos wechselnd mit Vertrauen -:
O Trauer ohne Sinn, o Traum, o Grauen,
o Tiefe ohne Grund.

Und so zu spielen: Ball und Ring und Reifen
in einem Garten, welcher sanft verblaßt,
und manchmal die Erwachsenen zu streifen,
blind und verwildert in des Haschens Hast,
aber am Abend still, mit kleinen steifen
Schritten nachhaus zu gehn, fest angefaßt -:
O immer mehr entweichendes Begreifen,
o Angst, o Last.

Und stundenlang am großen grauen Teiche
mit einem kleinen Segelschiff zu knien;
es zu vergessen, weil noch andre, gleiche
und schönere Segel durch die Ringe ziehn,
und denken müssen an das kleine bleiche
Gesicht, das sinkend aus dem Teiche schien -:
O Kindheit, o entgleitende Vergleiche.
Wohin? Wohin?

nebun de alb

nebun de alb

Acum sunt mai pustiu ca totdeauna
De cand ma simt tot mai bogat de tine
Si-mi stau pe tampla soarele si luna
Acum mi-e cel mai rau si cel mai bine

Si uite n-are cine sa ne-ajute
Abia-si mai duce lumea ale sale

Si pe-un perete alb de muze mute

Nebunii negri-si cauta o cale
Si te iubesc cu mila si cu groaza
Tot ce-i al tau mi se cuvine mie
Ca un nebun de alb ce captureaza
Regina neagra pentru o vesnicie

Prin gari descreierate accidente
Marfare triste vin in miezul verii
Iar eu sunt plin de gesturi imprudente
Ca sa te apropii si ca sa te sperii

Jur -imprejur privelisti aberante
Copii fragili purtand parinti inspate
Batrani cu sanii gri de os pe pante
Si albastrosi venind din zari uscate

Mi-e dor de tine si iti caut chipul
In fiecare margine a firii
In podul palmei daca prind nisipul
Simt un inel jucandu-se de-a mirii

I-aud prin batalii din vreme-n vreme
Ostasii garzii tale ti se-nchina
Iubita mea cu foarte mari probleme
Cu chip slavon sï nume de regïna

(A. Paunescu)