Anul 2015
Anul 2014
Anul 2013
Anul 2012
Anul 2011
Anul 2010 periodic nr. 1 2 | 3 | 4 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |
Anul 2009
DOSAR PENTRU MIERCUREA NEAGRĂ A PARLAMENTULUI
MIHAI BERCA - CRIZA ECONOMICĂ ŞI BUNUL COMUN NAŢIONAL
Memoriu, Marşul forumului ortodox român, HAOS de Rodica Elena LUPU
O PRECIZARE A PROFESORULUI ANDREI MARGA – RECTORUL UNIVERSITATII “BABES-BOLYAI” DIN CLUJ-NAPOCA
ARTICOLE - Liviu ANTONESEI, Al. Florin ŢENE, Corneliu FLOREA
Doua articole recente din presa cotidiană- Ilie ŞERBĂNESCU, Otilia CALOIAN
Articole: Victor CIUTACU, Alexandra Lia GRINDEAN
Apel ACOR
Mesaje pe e-mail
Articol de prof.dr. Adrian Botez
DACIA GENERATIEI DE AUR - Doua studii de IonPachia Tatomirescu şi prezentarea unui profesor român de „ZALMOXIANISM” în universitaţile australiene
ENGLISH VERSION:
Primul european care descoperă America
Primul european care descoperă America - continuare
Primul european care descoperă America - continuare 2
Ce este neozamolxianismul? - de Octavian Sărbătoare
DOUĂ POEME DE RADU CÂRNECI ÎN LIMBA FRANCEZA DE CONSTANTIN FROSIN
UN PRESTIGIOS TRADUCĂTOR ÎN LIMBA ENGLEZA- Adrian Şoncodi
Poeziile lui RADU GYR în limba engleză de George Anca
Dr. DAN BRUDAŞCU NE PREZINTĂ CĂRŢI ALE UNOR AUTORI DIN ŢARĂ ŞI STRĂINĂTATE
TREI SCRIITORI ROMANI DIN STRĂINĂTATE PREZENTAŢI DE OCTAVIAN CURPAŞ
CONSTANTIN FROSIN COMENTAT ŞI APRECIAT ÎN FRANŢA
“POEZIE RECOMANDATĂ DE EUGEN DORCESCU”
LAUDATIO DE GEORGE ANCA
George ROCA ÎŞI LANSEAZĂ A DOUA CARTE ÎN BUCUREŞTI:
RAPTUL SI ABANDONAREA CASEI SCRIITORILOR O DRAMĂ, O ESCROCHERIE, SAU O AFACERE DE REA CREDINŢĂ A CONDUCĂTORILOR ALEŞI ?!
AURA CHRISTI ŞI LIVIU IOAN STOICIU despre patimile legate de Casa Monteoru, sediu al USR
Corneliu LEU - DESPRE CASA SCRIITORILOR, NUMITĂ ŞI CASA MONTEORU
Clara ARUŞTEI - MOARTEA LUI CEZAR CRONICA ADEVĂRULUI (XII)
DESPRE PREŞEDINTELE UNIUNII SCRIITORILOR DIN ROMÂNIA
continuare mai veselă la „CINE ZICE CĂ ALŢII INCITĂ?!” din pagina întâi
Algoritm de calcul al pensiei
POEZIA INTERNETULUI RUBRICA LUI IONUŢ CARAGEA
PASO DOBLE RUBRICA LUI IOAN LILA
« Musca la arat » Din rubrica « Coltul condeierului » semnata de Mircea Radu IACOBAN
RUGACIUNEA UNUI BUGETAR
România lui Băsescu
PAGINA A TREIA

Poezia romana in limbile lumii

 

DOUĂ POEME DE RADU CÂRNECI
ÎN LIMBA FRANCEZA  DE CONSTANTIN FROSIN

 

 

  Radu CARNECI

 

 

UNE DÉFINITION DE LA POÉSIE




moult essences se sublimant en moult essences
rêve coloré en un sommeil transparence
au cœur languissant d’une spirale de la forme
afin de glorifier la matière informe
iris veillant sur la secrète présence :
moult essences se sublimant en moult essences


(accomplissement de l’accomplissement
ma peine à moi, attachement de l’attachement
tu me consumes constamment jusqu’à l’idée
à l’instar du beau pénétrant l’orchidée
cime irisant le sublime marié-Ponant :
accomplissement de l’accomplissement)


pensée de la Nature l’espoir en éveil
éternel fluide du et vers le Soleil
distances mesurant autant de non distances
tout comme l’espérance additionne espérances
ton propre être m’élève et en même temps m’enraye
pensée de la Nature l’espoir en éveil…

 

 

 

 

 LA BALANÇOIRE EN PAPILLONS



... Papillons d’azur en essaims infinis
Dansaient sur le vol de l’instant! Et fleuries
Chimères moult couronnaient d’un dor total
Tant profondeur que hauteur triomphales
En faisant don au Printemps d’ailes embellies :
Papillons d’azur en essaims infinis !

Papillons venaient de loins Sémiramides
Et de l’Occident en veloutées chlamydes,
Portant chansons du Sud méditerranéen,
Du Nord des brouillards au vent hyalin
Cohortes tumultueuses, de nectar bien avides :
Papillons venaient de loins Sémiramides…

(…Quel bal superbe ! Ô, quels princes et quelles princesses
Valsent comme en rêve sur la musique déesse
Et quels pollens exhalent ces bouquets
Se répandent dans d’aériens escaliers
Comme si les Anges tissaient leurs secrets sans cesse !
Quel bal superbe ! Ô, quels princes et quelles princesses… !)

L’enfance, oui, c’est bien elle ! C’est bien le Printemps
Miracles faisant dans l’âme et dehors autant
De fleurs s’exprimant en bon nombre de parlers
Oiseaux en couleurs venant des Elysées
Sous le ciel, l’Amour du Pays en emmurant :
L’Enfance, oui, c’est bien elle, cet altier Printemps !

SI UN PRESTIGIOS TRADUCĂTOR ÎN LIMBA ENGLEZA

Adrian Şoncodi
Din volumul “POEZII ROMÂNEŞTI ALESE – SELECTED ROMANIAN POEMS”, Cavaliotti, 2009

 Mihai Eminescu – Glossa

Time goes by and comes along,
 New gets old, the old renews;
What is right and what is wrong
Question, yet do not confuse;
Have no hope and have no fright,
All that’s wave, like wave expires;
When they tempt, when they invite.
You refrain from all desires.

Many grab our eyes’ attention,
Even more we get to hear,
Whose mind has enough retention
And who’s willing to give ear?...
Rest and stay away from trouble,
Find an inner voice that’s strong,
While in nonsense, noisy babble,
Time goes by and comes along.

Do not let the leaning beam
Tilt the balance of your mind
To an instant that’s a dream
Like a happy mask designed,
Which is born of its demise
And in instants may diffuse;
As it’s well-known to the wise,
New gets old, the old renews.

Watch the theatre of souls
Showing all around the Earth:
May one play four different roles,
You’ll still read what he is worth;
As they weep and as they quarrel,
Laugh until the final gong,
Seizing from their act the moral,
What is right and what is wrong.

Both the future and the past
Are but two sides of a page,
How it started, what comes last,
Shall decipher he who’s sage;
Times that were, or will be, ever,
By the present are in use,
All their hollowness, however,
Question, yet do not confuse.

For the same prevailing reasons
Govern all that we perceive,
And for countless years and seasons
People laugh and people grieve;
Other masks, the same old story,
Other tongues, the same old rite;
Oft deceived by short-lived glory,
Have no hope and have no fright.

Leave hope when you see the knave
Joining knaves and thus succeed,
Fools can bring you to the grave
Even if you’re born to lead;
Rest assured that, in the end,
At each other they’ll throw fires,
So their kind do not befriend:
All that’s wave, like wave expires.

When the siren singing starts,
Life lays out its shiny nets,
And, to change the actors’ parts,
Lures you with its whirling jets;
You sneak out the other way,
Never mind their sound or sight,
From your own path do not stray
When they tempt, when they invite.

If they touch you, step aside,
If they curse, don’t speak a word;
What would your advice provide,
Since you know they are absurd?
Let them utter what they please,
Yield to what the crowd requires;
Such that you love none of these,
You refrain from all desires.

You refrain from all desires,
When they tempt, when they invite;
All that’s wave, like wave expires,
Have no hope and have no fright;
Question, yet do not confuse,
What is right and what is wrong;
New gets old, the old renews:
Time goes by and comes along.

 

 Mihai Eminescu – Glossă

Vreme trece, vreme vine,
Toate-s vechi şi nouă toate;
Ce e rău şi ce e bine
Tu te-ntreabă şi socoate;
Nu spera şi nu ai teamă,
Ce e val ca valul trece;
De te-ndeamnă, de te cheamă,
Tu rămâi la toate rece.

Multe trec pe dinainte,
În auz ne sună multe,
Cine ţine toate minte
Şi ar sta să le asculte?...
Tu aşează-te deoparte,
Regăsindu-te pe tine,
Când cu zgomote deşarte
Vreme trece, vreme vine.

Nici încline a ei limbă
Recea cumpăn-a gândirii
Înspre clipa ce se schimbă
Pentru masca fericirii,
Ce din moartea ei se naşte
Şi o clipă ţine poate;
Pentru cine o cunoaşte
Toate-s vechi şi nouă toate.

Privitor ca la teatru
Tu în lume să te-nchipui:
Joace unul şi pe patru,
Totuşi tu ghici-vei chipu-i,
Şi de plânge, de se ceartă,
Tu în colţ petreci în tine
Şi-nţelegi din a lor artă
Ce e rău şi ce e bine.

Viitorul şi trecutul
Sunt a filei două feţe,
Vede-n capăt începutul
Cine ştie să le-nveţe;
Tot ce-a fost ori o să fie
În prezent le-avem pe toate,
Dar de-a lor zădărnicie
Te întreabă şi socoate.

Căci aceloraşi mijloace
Se supun câte există,
Şi de mii de ani încoace
Lumea-i veselă şi tristă;
Alte măşti, aceeaşi piesă,
Alte guri, aceeaşi gamă,
Amăgit atât de-adese
Nu spera şi nu ai teamă.

Nu spera când vezi mişeii
La izbândă făcând punte,
Te-or întrece nătărăii,
De ai fi cu stea în frunte;
Teamă n-ai, căta-vor iarăşi
Între dânşii să se plece,
Nu te prinde lor tovarăş:
Ce e val, ca valul trece.

Cu un cântec de sirenă,
Lumea-ntinde lucii mreje;
Ca să schimbe-actorii-n scenă,
Te momeşte în vârteje;
Tu pe-alături te strecoară,
Nu băga nici chiar de seamă,
Din cărarea ta afară
De te-ndeamnă, de te cheamă.

De te-ating, să feri în laturi,
De hulesc, să taci din gură;
Ce mai vrei cu-a tale sfaturi,
Dacă ştii a lor măsură;
Zică toţi ce vor să zică,
Treacă-n lume cine-o trece;
Ca să nu-ndrăgeşti nimică,
Tu rămâi la toate rece.

Tu rămâi la toate rece,
De te-ndeamnă, de te cheamă;
Ce e val, ca valul trece,
Nu spera şi nu ai teamă;
Te întreabă şi socoate
Ce e rău şi ce e bine;
Toate-s vechi şi nouă toate:
Vreme trece, vreme vine.

 

George Anca prezintă  în limba engleză un  semnificativ grupaj din poeziile lui RADU GYR :

 

 

 Radu Gyr

THE BLOOD OF THE JAIL

From Romanian by George Anca


The Roots

Last night when blind were sleeping the dens
I stayed among trunks lengthened on all fours
and when the dens were heavily sleeping
I've listened how the roots spoke
down about the dead from deep dark

one was speaking I grow from the cheek
of a great man full of glories in battles
now I suck his arms chest cheek
undefeated he was impetuous and fiery the brave
how sweet are his sucked eyelids

another was saying ferocious I sip from the lips
of those dearest and whitest sweetheart
o how many drunk like me today her lips
how many picked her snows and hot ashes
how mighty I bite her orbits

and the third one was whispering I grow from a forehead
the forehead of dead poet was my food
I mount leaves and branches from his bitter forehead
but my leaves can defy the age
with their earthly flame


At last judgment

chased through fool swamps
like a rabid beast
with pierced temples with deep orbits
with bites of winds on back

torn like a flag invaded by gangrene
tired up by whips like the rogue
thus I will arrive at the Supreme Judgment
my blood to soil your azure

clearly you'll shine under boreal snows
violet-blue of wounds I'll come in front of you
you'll stay cold in the frost of Thy glory
I will sorrow will be burning hot

Thy look will be iced sword
when Thy voice from the abyss will grow
man go on speak
o Thy great judgment

then I will fall on the high steps
on lips with a bloody inert smile
for all my unjust wounds
God I do forgive Thou


Be raised you George be raised you John

not for a shovel of redden bread
not for barns not for acres
but for your free air of tomorrow
be raised you George be raised you John

For the blood of your people flowed in ditches
for the tear of your sun nailed in spikes
for the song of your people in chains
be raised you George be raised you John

not for the anger gnashed in teeth
but to stock shouting on plains
a stack of shines and a busby of stars
be raised you George be raised you John

s0 as to drink the freedom from buckets
and in it to sink as the sky in whirlpools
and its apricot trees over you to shake
be raised you George be raised you John

be raised you John on chains on ropes
be raised you George on saint bones
up toward light after storm
be raised you George be raised you John


Last night Jesus

Last night Jesus has entered my cell
oh my how sad how tall Christ was
the moon has entered after him the cell
and was making him taller and sadder

his hands looked like lilies on graves
his eyes as deep as forests
the moon was beating his cloths with silver
silvering on his hand old breaches

I raised from under gray blanket
God where from are you coming from which age
Jesus driven softly a finger on mouth
and make me a sign to be silent

he stayed near me on door mat
put your hand on my wounds
on ankles shadows of wounds and rust he had
as if he had carried chains sometime

sighing he lengthened his tired bones
on my mat with cockroaches
through sleep the light and thick bars
drew out rods on his snow

the cell  seemed mountain seemed skull
and it swarmed with louses and rats
I felt my temple falling on my head
and I slept thousand years

when I awake from terrible abyss
the straws smelt like roses
I was in the cell and it was moon
only Jesus was nowhere

I lengthened my arms nobody silence
I asked the wall no answer
only cold rays sharpened in corners
with their lance thrust me

where are you God I howled at bars
from moon smoke of censers came
I touched myself and on my hands
I found the traces of his nails


The son of woman thief

in the women's pavilion over night
gnashing one of thieves has delivered
the moon issued its breasts full of milk
and wanted to take the babe in its arms

all the other thieves hurried
to wrap up the baby in an old handkerchief
mice in corners chatted what to gnaw
outside stars walked on tall stilts

spiders moved down on strings to see the confined
heavily the tub stank beyond door
the night at bars detached from a button its blouse
the thieves sang in wishes you lass believing your lad

and you smiled in bad reeking room
babe of doom offspring of thief
this smile you'll take with you in life
or will you drag only sigh like a chain at feet

tomorrow son of whore will call you some
others would remember you were born beyond bars
sprawling on earth by moon's yellow blizzard
you'll not know the name of your father

perhaps you'll also be thief like your mother tomorrow
your knife will hit in a knight with hood
perhaps for rings or only for a bread
the greedy prison will suck you

or perhaps you'll be like a cherry tree at Whitsunday
young and full of fruits
you'll fish from your oceans the corals
and you'd like to pass over age on big viaducts

and perhaps you'd like everywhere to partition to devote
to bind even wounds of stars in other realms
you will face the light to shaken it
its heavy gold to fall in everybody's fists

and then they'll say the same look at thief's son
they'll put like to your mother the red iron on forehead
and in chains and on all fours would bring you to the cruel jail
to make yourself beast hate and mist


Ulysses' return

in front table I stay with myrtle at templates
but I sleep since long under Troy's walls
the guests laugh and fill up their goblet
they drink with dead and honor the ghosts

I have remained under Troy's walls
and with my dead fellows on sea's bottom
fat rams and bulls redden
vainly in broaches perfumes

I sleep since long under Troy's walls
or rot under algae with rowers
returned to home as do return the ghosts
of those who are not coming on their steps

you finger me on shoulders on cloths
persuaded that I came back
but I am only hundred of graves
in the corps walking among you

you tell me about temples with pillars
about new gods grown in my absence
I fable you on my blue dead
remained under Troy or in seas of slag
and death not words have on mouth

at my court bards vie to come
to sing of me like all heroes
how their song is it to me devoted
in my honor is the quiet harp sighing

I sleep since long under Troy's walls
only shadows listen to them and the ghosts

oils with deep smell of flower
don't wash Troy's blood on my corpse
for beyond any bathing
 carry dear dead on me as plaster

I have remained under Troy's walls
and when on Penelope's warm breasts
I let forehead in deep hot shelter
I bleed still in wrestles with Cyclops
or I wander on seas with bones

with eager uninterrupted kisses
the woman caresses at random
on chest on arms the wounds from battles
believing their trace doesn't pain me more

But I am all an unseen wound
and wounds are my dim empty eyes
my woman or my dead kiss me
came in bed from under Troy's walls

I sleep since long under Troy's walls

again I'm lost with mariners in waves
 start again the battles with ghosts
I slide from woman's thighs
and bury again under Troy's walls

I have remained under Troy's walls

Produs Port@Leu | ISSN 1842 - 9971