You Leave...
You leave and for some racking years
My sight has lost its aim and love,
Although your being it endears --
The way you smile, the way you move.
Nor is as gentle as a tale
My painful love or its embrace,
Your soul has proved a demon pale
That boasts a comely marble face.
There's charm in your pale countenance:
Your live eyes sparkle when they choose
How moist and arch their frightful glance!
It teems with flattery and ruse.
Your fingers touch me and I shiver;
I tremble when your steps come by --
Upon your lashes' gentle quiver
My very hopes of life rely.
You leave, and yet, that yesterday
Henceforth I will no longer mourn:
I failed to fall again a prey
To pangs that any pity scorn.
You'll dim no more my hearing now
With fiery breath -- so sweet and kind;
Your hand will no more stroke my brow
Again to make me lose my mind.
My mind would oftentimes devise
Defamatory names for you;
My bitter hatred was unwise
I cursed you -- for I love you true.
Henceforth not even that will stay --
I'm left with nought to curse in tears;
The morrow'll be just like today
And, like the morrow, future years:
A lazy autumn lingering
Upon some sad exhausted streams;
Above, some dead leaves downward swing --
They are my wasted, dying dreams.
My life sheer madness seems to me
'Twill end before I yet begin it,
For in the dark eternity
I've only held you for a minute.
But then -- its wings forgetting leisure --
My luck for ever left again:
Oh, give me back a moment's treasure
'Spite years of ruefulness and pain!
Translated by Andrei Bantas
5 comments:
Imi place limba romana asa de mult. Si poeziile lor sunt frumoase si placute.
Translation: I love Romanian so much. And their poems are beautiful and pleasant.
--BigRedHammer
Big Red, this is for you (the poem in original Romanian):
Te duci
Te duci si ani de suferinta
N-or sa te vaza ochii-mi tristi,
Inamorati de'a ta fiinta,
De cum zambesti, de cum te misti.
Si nu e bland ca o poveste
Amorul meu cel dureros,
Un demon sufletul tau este
Cu chip de marmura frumos.
In fata famecul palorii
Si ochii ce scanteie de vii,
Sunt umezi infioratorii
De linusiri, de veclenii.
Cand ma atingi, eu ma cutremur,
Tresar la pasul tau cand treci,
De-al genei tale gingas tremur
Atarna viata mea de veci.
Te duci si rau n-o sa-mi para
De-acum de ziua cea de ieri,
Ca nu am fost victima iara
Neinduratelor dureri.
C-auzu-mi n-o sa-l mai intuneci
Cu-a gurii dulci suflari fierbinti,
Pe frunte-mi mana n-o s-o luneci.
Ca sa ma faci sa-mi ies din minti.
Puteam numiri defaimatoare
In gandul meu sa-ti iscodesc,
Si te uram cu-nversunare,
Te blestemam, caci te iubesc.
De-acuma nici asta nu-mi ramane
Si n-o sa am ce blestema,
Ca azi va fi ziua de mane,
Ca mani toti anii s-or urma --
O toamna care intarzie
Pe-un istovit si trist izvor;
Deasupra-i frunzele pustie --
A mele visuri care mor.
Viata-mi pare-o nebunie
Sfarshita far-a fi-nceput,
In toata neagra vecinicie
O clipa-n brate te-am tinut.
De-atunci pornind a lui aripe
S-a dus pe veci norocul meu --
Reda-mi comoara unei clipe
Cu ani de parere de rau!
Brock,
It's beautiful in English, but it's far better in original Romanian. I recommend learning the language (it's splendid!). But Portuguese would probably be more practical. For one thing, it's spoken in more than 2 small countries. For another thing, you could probably understand more of Olsen's poetry.
I haven't been to a poetry reading since my friend Dave sponsored Open Mic Nite at his house. He had a wooden platform on the side of his house, all strung with white twinkle lights, and anyone so inclined would read poetry and play guitar. It was the grooviest thing ever. I was much too shy to get up myself at the time. But in truth, it's long been a dream of mine to own a psychadelic cafe that plays chill yet poignant music, like Jack Johnson and Sarah McLachlin... and serves organic hot chocolate, brownies, and herbal tea. In my cafe, we would hold periodic open mic nites, and I would burn psychadelic candles of various sizes (incense gives me a headache... I have this weird aversion to strong smells) and perform poetry with an accompaniment of congo drums ('So I Married an Axe Murderer' style). I would wear a raspberry beret (the kind you'd find in a second-hand store... anyone? anyone?) and patchouli-cinnamon oil and carry a sketchbook.
'its beautiful..
I agree with Brock.. you pick just the right ones..!!
thank you for posting this.
Thanks, Preetika!
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