Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Ion Minulescu - Inner Dialogue (De vorba cu mine insumi)

       
In response to a recent challenge (or was it a "dare") from Mara Circiu - a dear friend who proudly carries the Romanian cultural heritage torch wherever she goes, in whatever she does - I took on Minulescu... Well, I must confess, this translation was a lot tougher than I thought; not only because poetry inadvertently loses meaning and content in any translation, but mainly because his symbolism leaves so much to interpretation...So how does one translate literary ambiguity? (Especially one that's an amateur in the field?).

Maestro, if you're frowning from above, I apologize... yet if you're smiling, I hope I did it justice.

... (a humble servant of the craft)...


De vorbă cu mine însumi

Vorbesc cu mine însumi, cum aş vorbi c-un frate
Întors rănit din lupta cu zilele de ieri,
Şi parcă tot nu-mi vine să cred că n-am dreptate -
Că El şi Eu nu suntem decât acelaşi frate,
Şi-aceeaşi rană-i doare pe ambii scutieri.

Armurile alt'dată pătate de rugină
Azi par mai sclipitoare decât oricând,
Iar spada,
Încrucişată-n luptă de-atătea ori,
E plină
De sângele netrebnic al celor ce cad prada
Aceluiaşi proteic şi veşnic Torquemada.

Vorbesc cu mine însumi şi-mi zic:
- De ce mă minţi
De-atâţia ani de-a rândul că tu eşti cel mai mare
Din toţi îmblânzitorii cohortelor barbare,
Că-n gestul tău palpită străvechile altare,
Iar vasta catedrală, zidită de părinţi,
Cu-ntreaga-i melodramă de Dumnezeu şi sfinţi,
O poţi schimba-ntr-o clipă,
De nu ţi-ar fi ruşine
De bărbile lor albe,
De mine
Şi de tine?

Vorbesc cu mine însumi şi-mi zic:
- De-atâţia ani,
De când mă porţi spre-acelaşi sublim necunoscut,
De ce mă minţi cu-aceleaşi îndemnuri de temut
Şi-mi profanezi credinţa cu-acelaşi prefăcut
Surâs -
Citit pe buze de josnici curtezani?
De ce din armonia supremelor cântări
Azi nu se mai aude decât grozavul urlet
Al celor ce se-neacă în descărcâri de tunet
Departe,-n cine ştie ce profunzimi de mări!...

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Mă simt aşa de singur, c-aproape-mi este frică
Să mai vorbesc cu mine,
Şi-mi zic:
- Ascultă, frate,
Ascunde-ţi rana,
Uită c-ai fost rănit şi tu -
Tu, ce-ai strivit atâţia ce nu se mai ridică -
Te scutură de greul armurii-nsângerate;
Iar celui ce te-ntreabă de-ţi sunt sau nu-ţi sunt frate
Răspunde-i: "Nu".

Inner dialogue

I babble by myself, as talking to a brother
Who injured has returned from fights with yesterday,
And still, I do not doubt  that I am wrong, but rather -
That Him and Me are not but  the same brother,
And the same wound both squires hurts today.

The ancient armors, long’go stained by rust
Brighter than ever seem to shine today,
And crossed,
So many times in fights, the sword,
Was thrust
And drenched in bloody victims falling prey
To gruesome Torquemada’s autos-da-fé.

I babble by myself and I say:
- Why this deceit you knit
Year-o’er-year that you’re the biggest one (of sorts)
Among all tamers of barbarian cohorts,
That in your touch an ancient altar-flame resorts,
And that the vast cathedral, by forefathers built,
With all its melodrama of God and angels quilt,
In just an instant you could change,
Had you been not ashamed with guilt
Of their white beards,
Of me
And thee?

I babble by myself and I say:
- For all these years in a row,
Of guiding me to the sublime unknown,
Why lie to me with exhortations to atone
My faith profaning with that facetious-prone
Smile -
Which lowly, cheating scum would show?
Why from harmony of the ol’ gospel tone
Today I hear just the horrid screams and yaps
Of those who drown in noisy thunder claps
Afar, in murky ocean depths unknown! ...

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I feel so very lonely, that I am quite afraid
To babble with myself,
And tell me:
- Brother, listen,
Hide your scar,
Forget that you were hurt and thou -
Who countless souls to crushing death have laid -
Shake off the blood-stained armor’s heavy bother;
And to the one who asks whether I am your brother
Tell him: "No".



Notes and references:
Ion Minulescu: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minulescu
                                http://www.romanianvoice.com/poezii/poeti/minulescu.php
auto-da-fé:         http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auto-da-f%C3%A9
Torquemada:    http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tom%C3%A1s_de_Torquemada