Language: Romanian
Poet: Eminescu
Translator: Delia Radu
Region: Moldova
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what waste to be not stung
A poem by Eminescu, translated from Romanian by Delia Radu
Mihai Eminescu is often regarded as Europe’s last great Romantic writer, though some scholars prefer to focus on the pre-modernist chords of his poetry. Born in 1850 in Moldova, still part of the Ottoman Empire at that time, he studied in the Germano-Romanian cultural centre of Cernauti (now Chernovtsy, Ukraine), Vienna and Berlin, where he was strongly influenced by German philosophy (notably by Schopenhauer), Western literature and German translations of ancient Indian texts. Most of his literary work came to a halt in 1883, when he suffered the onset of a mental illness that led to his death in 1889 in an asylum in Bucharest, Romania. Eminescu modernised and transformed Romanian literature profoundly.
Delia Radu is a journalist, writer and translator. Born and educated in Bucharest, she’s lived and worked in London since 1999. Her journalistic work was published on the BBC News website and BBC Sounds. Her literary work has appeared in the Cardinal Points Literary Journal, La Piccioletta Barca, and Sepia Quarterly.
Stelele-n cer
Stelele-n cer
Deasupra mărilor
Ard depărtărilor
Până ce pier.
După un semn
Clătind catargele,
Tremură largele
Vase de lemn;
Niște cetăți
Plutind pe marile
Și mișcătoarele
Pustietăți.
Stol de cocori
Apucă-ntinsele
Și necuprinsele
Drumuri de nori.
Zboară ce pot
Și-a lor întrecere,
Vecinică trecere
Asta e tot…
Floare de crâng,
Astfel viețile
Și tinerețile
Trec și se stâng.
Orice noroc
Și-ntinde-aripele
Gonit de clipele
Stării pe loc.
Până nu mor,
Pleacă-te, îngere,
La trista-mi plângere
Plină de-amor.
Nu e păcat
Ca să se lepede
Clipa cea repede
Ce ni s-a dat?
The Stars Arrayed
The stars arrayed
Above the seas
Burn vertices
Until they fade.
A compass line
Makes tall masts sway
The ships change way
Follow the sign;
Vast fortresses
Sailing jarring
Ever stirring
Emptinesses.
Sieges of cranes
High above glide
On endless, wide,
Overcast lanes.
Away they whizz
None of them slows
Everything flows
That’s all there is.
Blur of wild flowers,
Young years and strife
The entire life
Pass like the hours.
Any luck will
Take wing within moments
Chased by obscure omens
Nothing stands still.
Before I die,
Angel, relent,
Hear my lament
My love’s sad sigh.
What waste to be
Not stung, not stunned
By the instant’s
Fast, lively spree.
