sâmbătă, 22 decembrie 2012

Moartea Caprioarei Nicolae Labis---Death of the Deer

In timpul secetei cumplite de asta vara si a caldurilor ce au insotit-o am recitat nu odata "Seceta a ucis orice boare de vant/ Soarele s-a topit si a curs pe pamant" De curand prietena mea Anoet (Aneta) Mangu a publicat intr-un comentariu de pe fb o varianta a unei traduceri in engleza a celebrului poem MoOartea Caprioarei... A fost asa de amabila sa ofere si linkul unde exista inca o versiune, le voi copia aici pe amandoua...

Moartea caprioarei

Seceta a ucis orice boare de vant.
Soarele s-a topit si a curs pe pãmânt.
A rãmas cerul fierbinte si gol.
Ciuturile scot din fantana namol.
Peste paduri tot mai des focuri, focuri,
Danseaza salbatice, satanice jocuri.

Mã iau dupa tata la deal printre tarsuri,
Si brazii mã zgarie, rai si uscati.
Pornim amandoi vanatoarea de capre,
Vanatoarea foametei în muntii Carpati.
Setea mã naruie. Fierbe pe piatra
Firul de apa prelins din cismea.
Tampla apasa pe umar. Pasesc ca pe-o alta
Planeta, imensa si grea.

Asteptam intr-un loc unde inca mai suna,
Din strunele undelor line, izvoarele.
Când va scapata soarele, când va licari luna,
Aici vor veni sã s-adape
Una cate una caprioarele.

Spun tatii ca mi-i sete si-mi face semn sã tac.
Ametitoare apa, ce limpede te clatini!
Mã simt legat prin sete de vietatea care va muri
La ceas oprit de lege si de datini.

Cu fosnet vestejit rasufla valea.
Ce-ngrozitoare inserare pluteste-n univers!
Pe zare curge sange si pieptul mi-i rosu, de parca
Mainile pline de sange pe piept mi le-am sters.

Ca pe-un altar ard ferigi cu flacari vinetii,
Si stelele uimite clipira printre ele.
Vai, cum as vrea sã nu mai vii, sã nu mai vii,
Frumoasa jertfa a padurii mele!

Ea s-arata saltand si se opri
Privind în jur c-un fel de teama,
Si narile-i subtiri infiorara apa
Cu cercuri lunecoase de arama.

Sticlea în ochii-i umezi ceva nelamurit,
Stiam ca va muri si c-o s-o doara.
Mi se parea ca retraiesc un mit
Cu fata prefacuta-n caprioara.
De sus, lumina palida, lunara,
Cernea pe blana-i calda flori calde de cires.
Vai cum doream ca pentru-intaia oara
Bataia pustii tatii sã dea gres!

Dar vaile vuira. Cazuta în genunchi,
Ea ridicase capul, il clatina spre stele,
Il pravali apoi, starnind pe apa
Fugare roiuri negre de margele.
O pasare albastra zvacnise dintre ramuri,
Si viata caprioarei spre zarile tarzii
Zburase lin, cu tipat, ca pasarile toamna
Când lasa cuiburi sure si pustii.

Impleticit m-am dus si i-am inchis
Ochii umbrosi, trist strajuiti de coarne,
Si-am tresarit tacut si alb când tata
Mi-a suierat cu bucurie: - Avem carne!

Spun tatii ca mi-i sete si-mi face semn sã beau.
Ametitoare apa, ce-ntunecat te clatini!
Mã simt legat prin sete de vietatea care a murit
La ceas oprit de lege si de datini...
Dar legea ni-i desarta si straina
Când viata-n noi cu greu se mai anina,
Iar datina si mila sunt desarte,
Când soru-mea-i flamanda, bolnava si pe moarte.

Pe-o nara pusca tatii scoate fum.
Vai, fãrã vant alearga frunzarele duium!
Inalta tata foc infricosat.
Vai, cat de mult padurea s-a schimbat!
Din ierburi prind în maini fãrã sã stiu
Un clopotel cu clinchet argintiu...
De pe frigare tata scoate-n unghii
Inima caprioarei si rarunchii.

Ce-i inima? Mi-i foame! Vreau sã traiesc si-as vrea ....
Tu, iarta-mã, fecioara - tu, caprioara mea!
Mi-i somn. Ce nalt îi focul! Si codrul, ce adânc!
Plang. Ce gandeste tata? Mananc si plang. Mananc!

The death of the deer

Versions: #1
The drought has stifled every feather of wind,
The sun melted down on the earth, left behind
An empty, exhausted, blistering sky,
The buckets come up from the fountains all dry.
More and more over woods fires, fires,
Dance above savage, demoniac pyres.

I follow my father through the bushes uphill,
The fir-trees scrape me, withered up and evil,
Together, we start the deer hunting quest,
The hunting of hunger in the Carpathian forest.
Thirst ruins me. The thin string of water
Drip, drop, from the spout is sizzling on stone.
My temple is throbbing. I walk on another
Enormous and heavy, strange planet alone.

We wait in a place where, from strings of calm waves,
The streams still resound.
When the sun will be set, when the moon will rise, round,
One by one, in a line, up here,
they will come to drink, the deer.

I say “Father, I`m thirsty!” he hushes me at once,
Bemusing water, how clearly you glow!
I`m tied by thirst to the soul meant to die
At an hour forbidden by custom and by law.

The valley rustles with a withered hiss,
Crosswise the sky, a dire twilight lit
the clouds, and far, above the cliff,
blood drips. My chest is red, as if
I wiped my hands of blood on it.

With bluish flames through ferns, as in a dream,
Astounded stars begin to gleam
Sacrifice of my woods, oh, beautiful prey,
How I wish you did not come, how I pray!

She bounces lightly then she stops
And looks with caution through the grass
Her slender nostrils stirred the water
In circles shimmering like brass.

A hazy fear glared deep inside her eyes
I knew that she would suffer;
I knew that she would die,
As she stood there, still, she was the sheer
Myth of the maid embodied in a deer.
White cherry flowers, high above her
The moon was sifting on her fur.
Oh, how I wish, oh, how I pray,
My father`s gun to miss its prey!

The valleys roared. Knelt, in the stream,
She raised her head, as in a dream
She watched the sky, the moon, the stars
Then fell and water gleamed with scars.
A blue bird rushed, in a tree, unknown
The deer`s life has softly flown,
Crying like birds when they depart
And their fall migrations start.

I went to close her eyes, below
So sadly laid her antlers shadow
I startled livid when, suddenly, offbeat,
My father screeched with joy: “Meat, we have meat!
I say “Father, I`m thirsty!” he nods that I may drink.
Bemusing water, how sullenly you glow!
I feel tied by thirst to the soul that died
At an hour forbidden by custom and by law…
But our laws are useless and dead
When our life hangs up on a thread
And custom, law and pity are quickly gone
When sis` is sick and hungry at home.

The smokes comes out of my father`s gun
The leafage in flocks starts to run!
My father kindles a terrible fire
The wood seems now darker and higher!
I pick up from the grass, as in a dream,
A tiny bell with silver gleam,
My father, from the spit rends with his nails
The deer`s heart and her entrails.

You, heart? I`m hungry! I want to live, I wish, although…
Forgive me deer, forgive me virgin-doe!
I`m tired. How tall is now the fire! The woods, how deep!
I cry. What does my father think? I eat and cry. I eat!

"Death Of The Deer" (Moartea căprioarei)

NICOLAE LABIS (1935-1956)

The wind has vanished, killed off by the drought.
The sun has leaked on earth and spilled about.
The sky is hollowed out and hot as hell.
There's nothing left but mud in every well.
And in the forests, more and more one sees
Satanic fires dancing on the trees.

I follow my father uphill through the firtrees
And hideous branches are hurting my skin.
Today we'll be hunting, a deer we'll be hunting,
The hunt of starvation and sorrow and sin.

The thirst overwhelms me. The droplets of water
Are nothing but bubbles when reaching the stone.
My temples and shoulders are one. And I wander
A planet that's leaden, uneasy, unknown.

We're going to stalk in a place where the wellsprings
Still gurgle and burble and babble away.
It's here that the deer come for water at sunset,
When sunlight is waning and moonlight's to stay.

I'm thirsty. My father commands me: "Be quiet!"
How limpid, oh water, you're quivering by!
By thirst I feel bound to the innocent creature
That, laws notwithstanding, is going to die. 

The valley is withered, still gasping with rustle.
Oh horrible evening, oh evening of dread!
The flowing horizon is scarlet and bloody
And even my bosom is eerily red. 

In heavenly clusters resplendent stars twinkle,
While ferns on the altars their blazes entwine.
I pray that you didn't come, wish that you didn't,
You lovely oblation and sadness of mine! 

She sprang into sight at the end of her leaping,
And peered all around her, and listened for sound.
With delicate nostrils she touches the water,
And silvery circles start gliding around. 

A mystery glistens from deep down her eyesight.
I know she will suffer. She'll perish, I know.
I feel I am living the myth of the maiden
Who back in the old times turned into a doe. 

The moonlight reflected with cherry tree blossoms
Her fairylike presence, a radiant spot.
If only my father's old rifle misfired,
If only he bungled and blundered the shot! 

But there was a thunder. She knelt on the pebbles,
She gazed at the stars for a final adieu,
And fell in the water, with blood rushing downstream,
A last intimation to places she knew. 

A blue bird came screaming, shot up from the branches,
And heavenbound soaring he carried to rest
The soul of the doe deer, as when in the autumn
They leave an abandoned and desolate nest. 

I stumblingly shambled and shut down her eyelids,
On eyes whence forever her life would retreat.
I startled and staggered when father with gladness
And joy in his voice uttered: "Now we have meat!" 

I'm thirsty. My father allows me to drink now.
How turbid, oh water, you seem to subside!
By thirst I feel bound to the innocent creature
That, laws notwithstanding, has already died.

But laws have lost their relevance and core,
When life is not a given any more.
Traditions and compassion? Worthless foam,
When sister's ill and dying back at home. 

My father's rifle lets out whiffs of smoke.
Oh my, the leaves are whirling unprovoked!
I see my dad has set some wood aflame.
Oh, never will the forest be the same! 

My hand is feeling something in the weeds...
A little bell my mind just barely heeds.
Now from the grill my father sets apart
The roasted kidneys and the doe deer's heart. 

And what's a heart? I wish to... Just living would be fine.
Oh maiden, please forgive me, you dearest deer of mine!
I'm drowsing. Oh, the darkness! The flames are flying, fleeting.
What is my father thinking? I'm sobbing. And I'm eating!

Translation: Paul Abucean

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