Final epigraph [Epigraf final]
And if I were or not to die,
I'd feel like all of you, I'm sure,
A wink confined in sighs and cry,
Ghost among ghosts – and nothing more.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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If I knew... [De-aş şti...]
If I knew that all my tears
Would become white pearls sublime,
To enrich your future years
I would shed them all the time.
If I knew the blood that drains
From my heart would become gold
I would surely cut my veins
And I'd give you all this hoard.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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Moral rhymes [Apolog]
The sower let the seeds to fall down to the ground
And some by storm were taken to feed the birds around,
Some on the barren rocks died quickly when they fell
And some arrived in high grass, which all of them would quell,
But those which stayed in furrow repaid him hundredfold.
To sow it is a duty...
This surely I can hold.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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Bitterness [Amărăciune]
I'm feeling bitter and bizarre
I'm mad at God and those around,
And God and people always are
Upset with me, as I have found!
They curse me and inside my mind
I take the curse, however wild,
How can a man be good and kind
When he is God's created child?
And if I act as people do
It's not my fault and I don't lie...
They laugh at me, I'm feeling blue,
But mock them all although I cry!
poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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Sleep nicely [Dormi dulce]
You, who feel happy in your sleep...
Who have forgotten your soul kind
Can't feel the pain with your heart blind...
And in the stillness sunken deep,
You have no consciousness, no mind...
You, who feel happy in your sleep.
Sleep nicely – don't wake up too soon;
The real world, even when fair,
Compared to dreams is sad and bare...
Do not expect to be a boon,
For life is ruthless, doesn't care...
Sleep nicely – don't wake up too soon.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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The Rondel Of The Dying Roses
It is the time when roses die,
They die in gardens, and in me –
They were so full of life and glee,
And now they droop with a faint sigh.
Through everything cold shivers fly.
Despondency’s in all we see.
It is the time when roses die –
They die in gardens, and in me.
Beneath the dismal twilight sky
There eddies many a faint sigh;
And towards the long night to be
They gently bend their heads so shy –
It is the time when roses die.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski from The Poem Of Rondels (1927), translated by Dan Duţescu
Added by Dan Costinaş
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Bucolic wave [Bucolica undă]
The bucolic wave sleeps under calm willow trees
Here and there gilded by the sun's beautiful glory,
When in shade, shepherds kind, with a skin white as cheese,
Out of willows run naked – pink and bright milky story.
The bucolic wave takes them in its soft and thrilled hush,
Their blonde hair and nice shapes make it feel like a dame,
Trickling on naked bodies shudders gently, ablush,
But they shake it like dancers off their skin without shame.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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My Rondel
When I was hatred I was great,
While I, today, all things above,
Am great – great for I feel I’m love,
Great for with Lethe I share the fate.
Yes, mercilessness makes you great,
But high you fly, high like a dove
When nothing is your heart but love,
When mercy does your soul elate.
I know: all things bear sorrow’s weight,
Through life in ignorance we rove,
But every solace is in love,
And even if distress be great,
Elation is: forgive, forget.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski from The Poem Of Rondels (1927), translated by Dan Duţescu
Added by Dan Costinaş
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I traveled far [M-am dus departe]
I traveled far in thought and there I stood,
The limits of the heart remained behind
The deep horizon then I understood...
I left the man fall pray to humankind,
There's life I sensed wherever shines the light,
And mind would never grasp that light sublime,
But to what end? The man will win the fight
For in my heart he's present all the time.
In vain among the stars I wanna be
And to no use I always fly on high
I cannot read them, they can't see in me.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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When all elapse and I grow old [Când toate trec şi-mbătrânesc]
O! poetry, when in the world all things elapse and I grow old,
When I am not that pretty boy who had in him a blameless heart,
When childhood days are like a wreath whose withered flowers fell apart,
You're still in me, deep in a fold,
O! Poetry,
And are the same: with fresh young years crown with much art;
You're still a rover among stars and from up there you slowly start
Among the people to come down to stir again your age of gold,
O! Poetry,
And all can see that only you are never old.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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