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Lidia Vianu - Director of CTITC (CENTRE FOR THE TRANSLATION AND INTERPRETATION OF THE CONTEMPORARY TEXT), Bucharest University, Professor of Contemporary British Literature at the English Department of Bucharest University, Member of the Writers’ Union, Romania.

 

 
 
 
 
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CTITC

CENTRE FOR THE TRANSLATION AND INTERPRETATION OF THE CONTEMPORARY TEXT
CENTRUL PENTRU TRADUCEREA SI INTERPRETAREA TEXTULUI CONTEMPORAN

 

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 TRANSLATION CAFÉ 


 

MTTLC
MA Programme for the

TRANSLATION OF THE CONTEMPORARY LITERARY TEXT

Review of Contemporary Texts in Translation and E-Learning

 

 

 

Elaine Feinstein: Poems for Arnold

A visit

I still remember love like another country
with an almost forgotten landscape
of salty skin and a dry mouth. I think
there was always a temptation to escape
from the violence of that sun, the sudden
insignificance of ambition,
the prowl of jealousy like a witch's cat .

Last night I was sailing in my sleep
like an old seafarer, with scurvy
colouring my thoughts, there was moonlight
and ice on green waters.
Hallucinations. Dangerous nostalgia.
And early this morning you whispered
as if you were lying softly at my side:

Are you still angry with me? And spoke my
name with so much tenderness, I cried.
I never reproached you much
that I remember, not even when I should;
to me, you were the boy in Ravel's garden
who always longed to be good,
as the forest creatures knew, and so do I.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Elaine Feinstein: Poeme pentru Arnold

O vizita

Inca imi amintesc de iubire ca de o tara straina
cu un peisaj aproape uitat
in care pielea avea gust sarat si gura era uscata. Cred
ca intotdeauna a existat tentatia de a fugi
de violenta acelui soare , de brusca
neinsemnatate a ambitiei, de haituirea geloziei
ca de pisica unei vrajitoare.

Aseara, in vis, eram pe vas
ca un marinar batran, scorbutul
colorandu-mi gandurile, era clar de luna
si gheata pe apele verzi.
Inchipuiri. Melancolie periculoasa.
Si dimineata devreme mi-ai soptit
ca si cum ai fi fost acolo, tandru, langa mine:

Inca mai esti suparata pe mine? Si mi-ai rostit
numele cu atata tandrete, am plans.
Nu ti-am reprosat niciodata multe lucruri
din cate imi amintesc , nici macar atunci cand ar fi trebuit;
pentru mine erai tot baiatul din gradina lui Ravel
care si-a dorit intotdeauna sa fie bun,
asa cum stiau fapturile padurii, si, de altfel, asa cum stiu si eu.

 

Alexandra Sarbu
 

Elaine Feinstein: Poems for Arnold

A visit

I still remember love like another country
with an almost forgotten landscape
of salty skin and a dry mouth. I think
there was always a temptation to escape
from the violence of that sun, the sudden
insignificance of ambition,
the prowl of jealousy like a witch's cat .

Last night I was sailing in my sleep
like an old seafarer, with scurvy
colouring my thoughts, there was moonlight
and ice on green waters.
Hallucinations. Dangerous nostalgia.
And early this morning you whispered
as if you were lying softly at my side:

Are you still angry with me? And spoke my
name with so much tenderness, I cried.
I never reproached you much
that I remember, not even when I should;
to me, you were the boy in Ravel's garden
who always longed to be good,
as the forest creatures knew, and so do I.

 

 

 

 

Elaine Feinstein: Poeme pentru Arnold

Vizita

Ma mai gandesc inca la dragoste ca la o alta tara
cu un peisaj aproape dat uitarii
din piele sarata Si buze uscate. Cred ca
m-am simtit intotdeauna ispitita sa fug
de violenta acestui soare, o neinsemnata
Si neasteptata ambitie, o gelozie
care se strecoara ca pisica unei vrajitoare.

Noaptea trecuta am navigat in somn
ca un batran lup de mare, cu scorbutul
care-mi da culoare gandurilor, cu razele de luna
Si gheata care pluteau pe apele verzui.
Inchipuiri. Amintiri primejdioase.
Iar in zori ti-am auzit Soaptele tandre
ca in clipele in care erai intins langa mine.

Mai esti suparata pe mine? Si mi-ai rostit
numele atat de dulce; am plans.
Nici o dojana nu ti-am adus,
nici daca meritai; ai fost, pentru mine, baiatul
din gradina lui Ravel care intotdeauna
a visat sa fie bun, precum stiau toate creaturile
padurii si cum stiu si eu.

 

Elena Daniela Radu

 

Elaine Feinstein: Poems for Arnold

A visit

I still remember love like another country
with an almost forgotten landscape
of salty skin and a dry mouth. I think
there was always a temptation to escape
from the violence of that sun, the sudden
insignificance of ambition,
the prowl of jealousy like a witch's cat .

Last night I was sailing in my sleep
like an old seafarer, with scurvy
colouring my thoughts, there was moonlight
and ice on green waters.
Hallucinations. Dangerous nostalgia.
And early this morning you whispered
as if you were lying softly at my side:

Are you still angry with me? And spoke my
name with so much tenderness, I cried.
I never reproached you much
that I remember, not even when I should;
to me, you were the boy in Ravel's garden
who always longed to be good,
as the forest creatures knew, and so do I.

 

 

 

 

 

Elaine Feinstein: Poeme pentru Arnold

Vizita

Dragostea a ramas o amintire dintr-o tara straina,
un peisaj pe care aproape l-am uitat
cu gust de sare si buze uscate. Cred ca
mereu am vrut sa evadez de sub soarele acela salbatic
care ma facea sa uit de mine,
simteam doar gelozia cum ma sfasie
ca o pasare de prada.

In visul de azi-noapte eram un batran marinar
cu gandurile mancate de scorbut,
navigam sub lumina lunii peste ape verzui, printre sloiuri de gheata.
Halucinatii.O nostalgie periculoasa.
Si azi-dimineata mi-ai soptit
ca si cum te-ai fi trezit langa mine

Mai esti suparata? Si mi-ai spus numele
cu atata dulceata ca mi-au dat lacrimile.
Din cate stiu, nu ti-am facut niciodata prea multe reprosuri,
nici macar cand mi-ai dat motive;
pentru mine ai fost mereu baiatul din gradina lui Ravel
care voia sa fie bun,
asa cum stiau toate vietatile din padure, asa cum stiu si eu.

 

Arina Lungu

 

Elaine Feinstein: Poems for Arnold

A visit

I still remember love like another country
with an almost forgotten landscape
of salty skin and a dry mouth. I think
there was always a temptation to escape
from the violence of that sun, the sudden
insignificance of ambition,
the prowl of jealousy like a witch's cat .

Last night I was sailing in my sleep
like an old seafarer, with scurvy
colouring my thoughts, there was moonlight
and ice on green waters.
Hallucinations. Dangerous nostalgia.
And early this morning you whispered
as if you were lying softly at my side:

Are you still angry with me? And spoke my
name with so much tenderness, I cried.
I never reproached you much
that I remember, not even when I should;
to me, you were the boy in Ravel's garden
who always longed to be good,
as the forest creatures knew, and so do I.

 

 

 

 

 Elaine Feinstein: Poeme pentru Arnold

O vizita

Imi amintesc de dragoste ca de un alt tinut
cu peisaj de piele sarata si gura insetata
aproape lasat uitarii.Cred ca
a existat dintotdeauna ispita evadarii
de violenta acelui soare, de inopinanta
neinsemnatate a ambitiei,
de gelozia ce sta la panda ca o pisica neagra.

Noaptea trecuta visam ca navigham
ca un batran lup de mare, cu scorbutul
colorandu-mi gandurile, erau raze de luna
si gheata pe ape verzui.
Vedenii. Nostalgie primejdioasa.
Iar in zorii diminetii mi-ai soptit
De parca ai fi fost aici intins linistit langa mine:

Mai esti suparata pe mine? Si mi-ai rostit
numele cu asa tandrete, ca am plans.
nu ti-am reprosat niciodata
din cate imi amintesc, nici cand ar fi trebuit macar;
pentru mine, tu esti baiatul din gradina lui Ravel
ce tanjea mereu sa fie bun,
asa cum stiau si lighioanele padurii, si cum stiu si eu.

 

Florentina Rahira Tinte
 

Elaine Feinstein: Poems for Arnold

A visit

I still remember love like another country
with an almost forgotten landscape
of salty skin and a dry mouth. I think
there was always a temptation to escape
from the violence of that sun, the sudden
insignificance of ambition,
the prowl of jealousy like a witch's cat .

Last night I was sailing in my sleep
like an old seafarer, with scurvy
colouring my thoughts, there was moonlight
and ice on green waters.
Hallucinations. Dangerous nostalgia.
And early this morning you whispered
as if you were lying softly at my side:

Are you still angry with me? And spoke my
name with so much tenderness, I cried.
I never reproached you much
that I remember, not even when I should;
to me, you were the boy in Ravel's garden
who always longed to be good,
as the forest creatures knew, and so do I.

 

 

 

 

 

 Elaine Feinstein: Poeme pentru Arnold

Vizita

Inca imi mai amintesc iubirea ca pe o tara straina
cu un peisaj aproape uitat de lume
de piele sarata si gura uscata. Eu cred
ca a existat mereu tentatia de a evada
de sub violenta acelui soare, de sub brusca
lipsa de sens a ambitiei,
de sub panda geloasa ca a pisicii unei vrajitoare.

Azi-noapte navigam in somn
ca un lup de mare, cu josnicie
colorandu-mi gandurile, luna era pe cer stralucitoare
si gheatsa pe apele verzui.
Halucinatii. Nostalgie periculoasa.
Si azi de dimineata mi-ai soptit
Ca si cand ai fi fost intins moale langa mine:

Mai esti suparata pe mine? Si spunandu-mi

Numele cu atat de multa tandrete, am plans.
Nu ti-am reprosat niciodata prea multe
Din cate-mi amintesc, nici cand ar fi trebuit;
Pentru mine ai fost baietselul din gradina lui Ravel
care tanjea mereu sa fie bun,
asa cum stiau animalele padurii si-asa cum stiu si eu.

 

Gabriela Moldovan
 

Elaine Feinstein: Poems for Arnold

A visit

I still remember love like another country
with an almost forgotten landscape
of salty skin and a dry mouth. I think
there was always a temptation to escape
from the violence of that sun, the sudden
insignificance of ambition,
the prowl of jealousy like a witch's cat .

Last night I was sailing in my sleep
like an old seafarer, with scurvy
colouring my thoughts, there was moonlight
and ice on green waters.
Hallucinations. Dangerous nostalgia.
And early this morning you whispered
as if you were lying softly at my side:

Are you still angry with me? And spoke my
name with so much tenderness, I cried.
I never reproached you much
that I remember, not even when I should;
to me, you were the boy in Ravel's garden
who always longed to be good,
as the forest creatures knew, and so do I.

 

 

 

 

Elaine Feinstein: Poeme pentru Arnold

Vizita

Imi amintesc de dragoste ca de un alt tinut,
cu un peisaj aproape uitat
cu piele sarata si gura uscata.
Cred ca mereu a existat o ispita
de a scapa de violenta acelui soare,
de neprevazuta lipsa de ambitie,
de gelozia care pandeste precum pisica unei vrajitoare.

Noaptea trecuta navigam in somn
asemenea unui batran marinar,
razele lunii si apele verzi de gheata
imi luminau in mod pervers gandurile.
Halucinatii. Nostalgie periculoasa.
Iar in aceasta dimineata mi-ai soptit
Ca si cum ai fi fost langa mine:

Mai esti suparata pe mine? Si mi-ai spus pe nume
cu gingasie, si-am plans
Nu te-am mustrat niciodata, nici chiar
atunci cand ar fi trebuit;
pentru mine erai baiatul din gradina lui Ravel
ce voia mereusa fie cuminte,
asa cum il stiau fiintele padurii, asa cum il stiam si eu.

 

George Cojocaru
 

Elaine Feinstein: Poems for Arnold

A visit

I still remember love like another country
with an almost forgotten landscape
of salty skin and a dry mouth. I think
there was always a temptation to escape
from the violence of that sun, the sudden
insignificance of ambition,
the prowl of jealousy like a witch's cat .

Last night I was sailing in my sleep
like an old seafarer, with scurvy
colouring my thoughts, there was moonlight
and ice on green waters.
Hallucinations. Dangerous nostalgia.
And early this morning you whispered
as if you were lying softly at my side:

Are you still angry with me? And spoke my
name with so much tenderness, I cried.
I never reproached you much
that I remember, not even when I should;
to me, you were the boy in Ravel's garden
who always longed to be good,
as the forest creatures knew, and so do I.

 

 

 

Elaine Feinstein: Poeme pentru Arnold

O vizita

Inca-mi aduc aminte de iubire ca de o alta tara
cu un peisaj de piele sarata si gura insetata
aproape dat uitarii. Cred ca a existat mereu ispita
de a scapa de violenta acelui soare,
de neasteptata nimicnicie a ambitiei,
de panda geloziei
ca de pisica unei vrajitoare.

Azi noapte navigam in somn
ca un batran lup de mare, scorbutul
colorandu-mi visele, era clar de luna
si gheata pe apele verzui.
Inchipuiri. Nostalgii periculoase.
Iar dimineata devreme ai soptit
Ca si cum ai fi stat tandru lungit langa mine:

Mai esti suparata pe mine? Si mi-ai rostit
Numele cu-atata tandrete de-am plans.
Nu ti-am reprosat niciodata prea multe
Din cate-mi aduc aminte, nici chiar atunci cand ar fi trebuit;
Pentru mine esti baietandrul din parcul Ravel
Cel ce dorea mereu sa fie bun
Asa cum stiau fapturile padurii si-asa cum stiu si eu.

 

Ileana Botescu-Sireteanu

 

Elaine Feinstein: Poems for Arnold

A visit

I still remember love like another country
with an almost forgotten landscape
of salty skin and a dry mouth. I think
there was always a temptation to escape
from the violence of that sun, the sudden
insignificance of ambition,
the prowl of jealousy like a witch's cat .

Last night I was sailing in my sleep
like an old seafarer, with scurvy
colouring my thoughts, there was moonlight
and ice on green waters.
Hallucinations. Dangerous nostalgia.
And early this morning you whispered
as if you were lying softly at my side:

Are you still angry with me? And spoke my
name with so much tenderness, I cried.
I never reproached you much
that I remember, not even when I should;
to me, you were the boy in Ravel's garden
who always longed to be good,
as the forest creatures knew, and so do I.

 

 

 

Elaine Feinstein: Poeme pentru Arnold

Vizita

Imi amintesc inca de iubire ca de un alt taram
Ale carui privelisti aproape ca le-am uitat,
Pielea sarata si buzele uscate. Cred ca
Am nutrit dintotdeauna dorinta de a scapa
De arsita acelui soare, surprinzatoarea
Inconsistenta a ambitiei,
Gelozia ce-si asteapta prada ca pisica unei vrajitoare.

Noaptea trecuta am visat ca plutesc
Asemeni unui marinar batran lovit de boala
Luna si gheata de pe valurile verzi
Imi luminau gandurile.
Fantasme. Lunecoasa nostalgie.
Si in zori ti-am auzit aievea soapta
Si te-am simtit suav langa mine

Inca mai imi porti pica? Si mi-ai rostit
Numele atat de tandru, am strigat
Nu ti-am reprosat aprope nimic
Din cate-mi amintesc, nici atunci cand trebuia
Ai fost pentru mine baiatul din gradina edenului
Aspirand mereu la inocenta
Fiarelor din salbaticie...ca si mine.

 

Roxana Mindrican

Elaine Feinstein: Poems for Arnold

A visit

I still remember love like another country
with an almost forgotten landscape
of salty skin and a dry mouth. I think
there was always a temptation to escape
from the violence of that sun, the sudden
insignificance of ambition,
the prowl of jealousy like a witch's cat .

Last night I was sailing in my sleep
like an old seafarer, with scurvy
colouring my thoughts, there was moonlight
and ice on green waters.
Hallucinations. Dangerous nostalgia.
And early this morning you whispered
as if you were lying softly at my side:

Are you still angry with me? And spoke my
name with so much tenderness, I cried.
I never reproached you much
that I remember, not even when I should;
to me, you were the boy in Ravel's garden
who always longed to be good,
as the forest creatures knew, and so do I.

 

 

 

 

 

Elaine Feinstein: Poeme pentru Arnold

Vizita

Inca ma gandesc la iubire ca la o tara straina
cu un peisaj cu piele sarata si gura uscata
aproape uitat. Cred ca intotdeauna
am avut dorinta de a scapa
de arsita soarelui, de brusca
lipsa de importanta a ambitiei,
de gelozia care pandeste asemeni pisicii vrajitoarei.

Noaptea trecuta navigam in vis
asemeni unui marinar batran. Scorbutul
era colorant pentru vise. Pe apele verzi
pluteau gheata si razele lunii.
Vedenii. Nostalgii periculoase.
Si in acea dimineata, ca si cum
ai fi fost langa mine, mi-ai soptit cu blandete:

Mai esti suparata pe mine? Si mi-ai rostit numele
cu atata gingasie ca am inceput sa plang.
Imi aduc aminte ca niciodata nu m-am apropiat
prea mult de tine. Nici atunci cand ar fi trebuit.
Pentru mine ai fost un baiat din gradina lui Ravel
care-si dorea sa fie bun.
Asa stiau creaturile padurii si asa stiam si eu.

Gabriela Burcea

 

Elaine Feinstein: Poems for Arnold

A visit

I still remember love like another country
with an almost forgotten landscape
of salty skin and a dry mouth. I think
there was always a temptation to escape
from the violence of that sun, the sudden
insignificance of ambition,
the prowl of jealousy like a witch's cat .

Last night I was sailing in my sleep
like an old seafarer, with scurvy
colouring my thoughts, there was moonlight
and ice on green waters.
Hallucinations. Dangerous nostalgia.
And early this morning you whispered
as if you were lying softly at my side:

Are you still angry with me? And spoke my
name with so much tenderness, I cried.
I never reproached you much
that I remember, not even when I should;
to me, you were the boy in Ravel's garden
who always longed to be good,
as the forest creatures knew, and so do I.

 

 

 

 

Elaine Feinstein: Poeme pentru Arnold

O vizita

Inca imi amintesc dragostea, ca pe o tara straina
cu peisaje de piele sarata si gura uscata,
aproape date uitarii. Cred ca
dintotdeauna existase ispita rupturii
de taria arsitei acelui soare, de cercul ambitiilor
brusc devenit derizoriu,
de gelozia mereu la panda, ca un cotoi de vrajitoare.

Azi-noapte visam ca navighez,
ca un batran corabier in ale carui ganduri
scorbutul picura culori; pe apele verzui licareau
gheata si razele lunii.
Inchipuiri. Doruri primejdioase.
Iar azi-dimineata devreme mi-ai soptit
de parca stateai intins cu blandete langa mine:

Mai esti suparata pe mine? Si mi-ai rostit
numele cu atata duiosie, incat am plans.
Pe cat imi amintesc, nu ti-am adus multe
reprosuri, nici macar cand ar fi trebuit;
pentru mine, erai baiatul din gradina Ravel,
cel care mereu tanjea sa fie bun,
asa cum vietuitoarele padurii stiau sa fie bune,asa cum stiu si eu.

Andreea Hadambu

 

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