Eminescu - Poesii - SATIRE IV

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SATIRE IV		SCRISOAREA IV
See the tall and lonely castle mirrored in the placid lake, 'Neath those waters does its shadow through the ages never wake, Silently above the pine-tress rise its ancient rampart stark, Throwing wide a flood of shadow o'er the brooding waters dark. Through the high and arched windows silver curtains one can see, Like the hoar frost coldly shining, hanging folds of drapery. Slowly climbing up the heavens shows the moon behind the pines, And the rocky crags and tree tops on the silver sky designs, While the mighty oaks encircling like a watching giant band Round, as though around some treasure, silent guard of honour stand. Only the white swans that slowly through the rushes take their way, Emperors of that lonely water, hold their proud and silent sway, Now, as though to mount the heavens, spreading wide their mighty wings Do they beat the water's surface, breaking it in silver rings, While the sleeping rushes shiver giving forth a secret sight And in the flower-sprinkled grass does a cricket sound its cry; There's sweet sound and so much scent and so much summer in the air... Beneath the hidden balcony a lonely knight is standing there, The balcony hung o'er with leaves, in clusters round its pillars twined Roses of Shiraz in bloom, and creeping plants of diverse kind; While he intoxicated by the breeze that off the sleeping water strays Amidst fair nature's magic spell on his guitar a nocturne plays. "Beloved, show thyself again in thy long flowing silken gown Which clinging close about thee seems with silver dust to be weighed down. My whole life would I gaze on thee, that dost a crown of radiance wear When thou dost lift thy small white hand to smooth aside thy golden hair. Come sport with me... and with my luck... throw from thy casement in the skies. A little faded meadow flower that on thy swelling bosom lies, So that in falling it may strike on my guitar a trembling sound. So bright the darkness it does seem that silver snow lies on the ground. If to the perfumed fastness of your curtained boudoir I might win Intoxicated with the scent of snowy flaxen sheets within, Cupid, that small bantering page, would hide between his hands flame the flame. Of thy bright gleaming bedside lamp, my beauteous, my graceful dame !" A gentle sound of rustling silk ... a form that moves the leaves between Among the scarlet roses and the climbing deep blue creepers seen. Among the flowers the maiden laughs, and leans her hand the bars above- Sweet as the image of a saint the faces are of those that love- She throws him down a crimson rose, then on her lips a finger lays As though to chide him, yet the while soft words of passion says. Then drawing back she disappears... sound of steps that come in haste... And through the door she slips at last, the knight has taken her round the waist And arm in arm they stride away... a pretty match they make withal So lovely she, and he so young, and both of them so slim and tall. Out of the shadow of the cliff, towards the open shining lake, With loose and lazy flapping sails, their boat its gentle course does take And slowly through the silver night, amid the sound of lapping oars, They glide across a magic lake that lies between enchanted shores. The moon now, to her fullness come, athwart the sky her lantern swings And o'er the water, shore to shore, a path of silver brilliance flings That she upon the ripples lays, as though by lips of fairies kissed, She the child of heaven's clear, dream of everlasting mist. Gradually her beam grows brighter, clearer still and still more clear, While the farther hills upstanding in her gleam quite close appear, Wider too the forest growing that does clothe the water's side, Spreading 'neath the disc of heaven, Queen of all that shining tide. The while, tall limes with shadows wide, their blossoms trailing to the ground, Above the shady waters lean and through their leaves soft breezes sound, While on the maiden's golden head many scented petals light. Now does she place her slender hands about the neck of that fair knight And raising up her face to his, tenderly she whispers this: "Deep in my soul how wildly sweet the word upon thy red lip is. And oh, to what a heaven high within thy mind thou lift thy slave, Still is the yearning in thy heart the single happiness I have. And with its gentle fire thy voice can hurt and fill my soul with fears, For ours does seem a tale of lave passed dawn to us from bygone years. A wondrous unspoken dream thy eyes that do so sadly yearn, Within their humid, thirsty depths I am consumed and ever burn. O, give me back your gleaming eyes and turn them not away from me, An ever standing miracle shall their eternal darkness be, Fain would I gaze till I grow blind beholding them. But listen now How countless tress and ripples soft hold converse with the stars, and how The woods with dark delirious joy are full, and how the azure springs Speak to each other of our love amid their happy babblings, While Lucifer is trembling midst the summits of the highest trees, The whole wide earth, the lake, the sky, all are our accomplices. Well may we loose the rudder and let the lazy oars lie still That on the water's gentle breast the waves should bear us where they will, No matter where the waters drive, no matter what the kind wind's breath, For everywhere our joy will lie... little matter life or death." ........................................................................................................... Fanny, naught but fancy's farce. When ever we are alone we two, How oft you take me on the lake, what seas and forests guide me through ! Where did you see these unknown lands of which you speak to me today? And where these joys? Since then I deem five hundred years have passed away Today one may not loose one's soul enchanted by a maiden's gaze, Though sick with longing you may be, you will not gain such maiden's ways, As with your arms about her neck, with mouth to mouth and breast to breast, Her eyes are asking: "Tell me true, 'tis really me you love the best?" Alas, your hand is scarce held out but opens the door and pour in through A swarm of wretched relatives, some uncles, then an aunt or two. You hang your head, grin bashfully, and silent ask the skies above If there be not in all the world a quiet spot in which to love. Like mummies brought from Egypt they, stiffly upright in their chairs, While you with twisting fingers writhe, numbering your moustache's hairs, Or roll unwanted cigarettes, or sit with clenched and folded hands And show how sensible you are, who even cooking understands. O, I am weary of a life composed of desilusion's stuff, Of misery and bitter prose... of such a life I've had enough; To hallow with so many tears an instinct so banal and vain, An instinct that the birds have got, and every spring comes back again. You do not live, another soul inspires you, lives in your stead, Laughs with your mouth, is happy. He, and he it was who whispered. Your lives are like the ripples which into oblivion run away, Eternity is evil all, and sin, a demigod, holds sway. Do you not realize your love is not your own, you madman you? Do you not know what nonsense cheap you hold for marvels and are true? Do you not realize that love is only one of nature's needs? Do you not know it nurtures lives that have in them but Satan's seeds? Do you not see your laughter is the source of your own children's tears? Cain's influence is on the earth and still no end to it appears. O, theatre of puppet plays full of the babble of mankind... Like parrots, they a thousand jokes and endless nonsense tales unwind. Yet understand they not at all the things they tell. An actor climbs Upon the stage and tells himself again, again ten thousand times, What every age has always said, what every age will always say Until the sun dips in the sea upon the eve of judgement day. O, do you dream when midst the clouds the moon her nightly course does steer. Dream deep in your imagined world that you your maiden can ender? At midnight wander through the snow along a frosty wind-swept road And gaze through lighted windows at the lighted rooms of her abode? You'd see her stand complacently with many a worthless waiting beau There gathered round, and each in turn a little winsome ogle throw, Hear clank of spurs, see silken gowns from which faint rustling murmurs rise, The young men turn mustachios, the ladies rolling sheeplike eyes. While she with amorous glance accepts their propositions at her ease, You, with your stupid sentiments, would you before her doorway freeze? O passionate and stubborn fool, to love her in this childish way When she is cold and whimsical, and sudden as an April day. You clasp together longing hands, a madman's dream does you enthral, For you would take her in your arms, to have her and to hold her all, As though a Parian marble fair, or canvas that Correggio wrought, Cold and coquettish as she is. Believe me, 'tis a foolish thought. Aye, the maiden I had dreamt of, who would of loves enchantment know, Who when I sat enwrap in thought would lean upon my shoulder so That I would feel her presence near, and know I understood at last To make of living but a tale, a life in happy legend past. I seek no more. What should I seek? The same old song of my desire, The hunger for eternal peace that sets my wretched soul afire. The silver chords are broken now, my lyre no more of love does sing, And yet the ancient song I hear sometimes at night beside the spring Where, here and there, amidst the dark, a gleam of milk-white moonlight strays From out a Carmen seculare as I did dream in former days... But for this sad sigh and wailing, whistling, discordant sound, Scattered cries and tangled noises in my weeping lyre are found. Through my mind a breeze of winter sadly is a journey wending, And around me chants forever tale of time inept unending. What the outcome of existence? Where the message that I had? All the lyre's chords are broken, and the minstrel man is mad. Translated by Corneliu M. Popescu		Sta castelul singuratic, oglindu-se in lacuri, Iar in fundul apei clare doarme umbra lui de veacuri; Se inalta in tacere dintre raristea de brazi, Dind atata intunerec rotitorului talaz. Prin ferestrele arcate, dupa geamuri,tremur numa Lungi perdele incretite, care scinteie ca bruma. Luna tremura pe codri, se aprinde , se mareste., Muchi de stinca , virf de arbor, ea pe ceruri zugraveste, Iar stejarii par o straja de giganti ce-o inconjoara, Rasaritul ei pazindu-l ca pe-o tainica comoara. Numai lebedele albe, cind plutesc incet din trestii, Domnitoare peste apa, oaspeti linistei acestei, Cu aripele intinse se mai scutura si-o taie, Cind in cercuri tremurinde, cind in brazde de vapaie. Papura se misca-n freamat de al undelor cutreier, Iar in iarba inflorita, somnoros suspin-un greier... E atita vara-n aer, e atit de duios zvonul... Singur numai cavalerul suspinind privea balconul Ce-ncarcat era de frunze, de ii spinzur prin ostrete Roze rosie de Siras si liane-n fel de fete. Respirarea cea de ape il imbata, ca si sara; Peste farmecul naturii dulce-i pictura ghitara: "O, arata-mi-te iara-nhaina lunga de matasa, Care pare incarcata de o pulbere-argintoasa, Te-as privi o viata-ntreaga in cununa ta de raze, Pe cand mana ta cea alba parul galben il neteaza. Vino! Joaca-te cu mine... cu norocul meu... mi-arunca De la sanul tau cel dulce floarea vesteda de lunca, Ca pe coardele ghitarei rasunand incet sa cada... Ah! E-atat de alba noaptea, parc-ar fi cazut zapada. Ori in umbra parfumata a buduarului sa vin, Sa ma-mbete acel miros de la panzele de in; Cupido, un paj sagalnic, va ascunde cu-a lui mana, Vioriul glob al lampei, mladioasa mea stapana !" Si uscat fosni matasa pe podele, intre glastre, Intre rozele de Siras si lianele albastre; Dintre flori copila ride si se-nclina peste gratii - Ca un chip usor de inger e-aratarea adoratei - Din balcon i-arunca-o roza si cu mainile la gura, Pare ca il dojeneste cind sopteste cu caldura; Apoi iar dispare-nlauntru... auzi pasuri ce coboara... Si iesind pe usa iute, ei s-au prins de subsuoara, Brat de brat pasesc alaturi... le sta bine laolalta, Ea frumoasa si el tanar , el inalt si ea inalta, Iar din umbra de la maluri se desface-acum la larg Luntrea cu-ale ei vintrele spanzurate de catarg Si incet inainteaza in lovire de lopeti, Leganand atata farmec si atatea frumuseti..., Luna... luna iese-ntreaga,se inalt-asa balaie Si din tarm in tarm dureaza o carare de vapaie, Ce pe-o repede-nmiire de mici unde o asterne Ea, copila cea de aur, visul negurii eterne ; Si cu cat lumina-i dulce tot mai mult se lamureste, Cu-atat valurile apei, cu-atat tarmul parca creste, Codrul pare tot mai mare, parca vine mai aproape Dimpreuna cu al lunei disc, stapinitor de ape, Iara tei cu umbra lata si cu flori pana-n pamant Inspre apa-ntunecata lin se scutura de vant; Peste capul blond al fetei zboara florile s-o ploua... Ea se prinde de grumazu-i cu manutele-amandoua Si pe spate-si lasa capul : - Ma uimesti daca nu mantui... Ah, ce fioros de dulce de pe buza ta cuvantu-i ! Cat de sus ridici acuma in gandirea ta pe-o roaba, Cand durerea ta din suflet este singura-mi podoaba. Si cu focul bland din glasu-ti tu ma dori si ma cutremuri, De imi pare o poveste de amor din alte vremuri; Visurile tale toate, ochiul tau atat de tristu-i, Cu-a lui umed-adancime toata mintea mea o mistui. Da-mi-i mie ochii negri... nu privi cu ei in laturi, Caci de noaptea lor cea dulce vecinic n-o sa ma mai saturi - As orbi privind intr-insii... O, asculta numa-ncoace, Cum la vorba mii de valuri stau cu stelele proroace ! Codrii negri aiureaza si izvoarele-i albastre Povestesc ele-nde ele numai dragostele noastre Si luceferii ce tremur asa reci prin negre cetini, Tot pamantul, lacul, cerul... toate, toate ni-s prietini... Ai putea sa lepezi carma si lopetile sa lepezi, Dupa propria lor voie sa ne duca unde repezi, Caci oriunde numai ele ar dori ca sa ne poarte, Pretutindeni fericire... de-i viata, de e moarte. ......................................................................... Fantezie, fantezie , cand suntem numai noi singuri, Ce ades ma porti pe lacuri si pe mare si prin cranguri 1 Unde ai vazut vrodata aste tari necunoscute ? Cand se petrecur-aceste ? La o mie patru sute ? Azi n-ai chip in toata voia in privirea-i sa te pierzi, Cum iti vine, cum iti place pe copila s-o desmierzi, Dupa gat sa-i asezi bratul, gura-n gura, piept la piept, S-o intrebi numai cu ochii: "Ma iubesti tu ? Spune drept !" As! abia ti-ai intins mana, sare ivarul la usa, E-un congres de rubedenii, vre un unchi, vre o matusa... Iute capul intr-o parte si te uiti in jos smerit... Oate nu-i in lumea asta vrun ungher pentru iubit ? Si ca mumii egiptene stau cu totii-n scaun tepeni, Tu cu mainile-nclestate, mai cu degetele depeni, Mai sucesti vre o tigara, numeri fire de musteti, Si-n probleme culinare te incerci a fi istet. Sunt satul de-asa viata... nu sorbind a ei pahara, Dar mizeria aceasta, proza asta e amara. Sa sfintesti cu mii de lacrimi un instinct atat de van Ce le-abate si la pasari de vreo doua ori pe an ? Nu traiti voi, ci un altul va inspira - el traieste, El cu gura voastra ride, el se-ncanta, el sopteste, Caci a voastre vieti cu toate sunt ca undele ce curg, Vecinic este numai riul : riul este Demiurg. Nu simtiti c-amorul vostru e-un amor strain ?Nebuni ! Nu simtiti ca-n proaste lucruri voi vedeti numai minuni ? Nu vedeti c-acea iubire serv-o cauza din natura ? Ca e leagan unor viete ce seminte sunt de ura ? Nu vedeti ca risul vostru e in fiii vostri plins, Ca-i de vina cum ca neamul Cain inca nu s-a stins ? O, teatru de papuse... zvon de vorbe omenesti, Povestesc ca papagalii mii de glume si povesti Fara ca sa le priceapa... Dupa ele un actor Sta de vorba cu el insusi, spune zeci de mii de ori Ce-a spus veacuri dupolalta, ce va spune veacuri inca, Pin' ce soarele s-o stinge in genunea cea adanca. Ce ? Cand luna se strecoara printre nouri, prin pustii, Tu cu lumea ta de ganduri dupa ea sa te atii ? Sa aluneci pe poleiul de pe ulitele ninse, Sa privesti prin lucii geamuri la luminile aprinse Si s-o vezi inconjurata de un roi de pierde-vara, Cum zambeste tuturora cu gandirea ei usoara ? S-auzi zornetul de pinteni si fosnirile de rochii, Pe cand ei sucesc musteata, iara ele fac cu ochii ? Cand incheie cu-o privire amoroasele-ntelegeri, Cu ridicula-ti simtire tu la poarta ei sa degeri ? Patimas si indaratnic s-o iubesti ca un copil Cand ea-i rece si cu toane ca si luna lui april ? Inclestind a tale brate toata mintea sa ti-o pierzi ? De la crestet la picioare s-o admiri si s-o desmierzi Ca pe-o marmura de Paros sau o panza de Corregio, Cand ea-i rece si cocheta ? Esti ridicul, intelege-o... Da... visam odinioara pe acea ce m-ar iubi, Cand as sta pierdut pe ganduri, peste umar mi-ar privi, As simti-o ca-i aproape si ar sti c-o inteleg... Din sarmana noastra viata , am dura roman intreg... N-o mai caut ... Ce sa caut ? E acelasi cantec vechi, Setea linistei eterne care-mi suna in urechi; Dar organele-s sfaramate si-n strigari iregulare Vechiul cantec mai strabate cum in nopti izvorul sare. P-ici ,pe colo mai strabate cate-o raza mai curata Dintr-un Carmen Saeculare ce-l visai si eu odata. Altfel suiera si striga, scapara si rupt rasuna , se imping tumultoase si salbatece pe struna, Si in gandu-mi trece vantul, capul arde pustiit, Aspru, rece suna cantul cel etern neispravit... Unde-s sirurile clare din viata-mi sa le spun ? Ah ! organele-s sfaramate si maestrul e nebun ! 1881, 1 sept. (Transpusa in format electronic: Florina Ionescu) Mihail Eminescu
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