Bacovia Leadof Winter 2012
Bacovia Leadof Winter 2012
Bacovia Leadof Winter 2012
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Epitaf ………………………………… 93
Epitaph ………………………………. 92
Destul ……………………………….. 94
Enough ……………………………… 94
Regret ………………………………. 95
Regret ………………………………. 95
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Plumb Lead
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Decor Scenery
În parc regretele plâng iar... Regrets again cry out in the park.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
De-atatea nopţi aud plouând, I've heard only rain and weeping
Aud materia plângând... for so many nights . . .
Sunt singur, şi mă duce-un gând Alone, my thoughts live
Spre locuinţele lacustre. in the lake cottages.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Gri Grey
Plâns de cobe pe la geamuri se opri, Those who wail have ceased their lament.
Şi pe lume plumb de iarnă s-a lăsat; The world is buried under winter's lead.
I-auzi corbii! ― mi-am zis singur... şi-am oftat, Ravens! I say to myself with a sigh.
Iar în zarea grea de plumb, At the heavy leaden horizon
Ninge gri. snow falls grey.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Sonet Sonnet
E-o noapte udă, grea, te-neci afară. A wet and heavy night, perfect for drowning.
Prin ceaţă ― obosite, roşii, fără zare ― Drab, worn-out street lamps offer light
Ard, afumate, triste felinare in the fog. The street reminds me
Ca într-o crâşmă umedă, murdară. of a dank and dirty tavern.
Prin măhălăli mai neagră noaptea pare... In the suburbs, night is blacker still.
Şivoaie-n case triste inundară ― Shabby houses flood.
Ş-auzi tuşind o tusă-n sec, amară ― Through crumbling walls
Prin ziduri vechi ce stau în dărâmare. I hear a dry and bitter cough.
Ca Edgar Poe mă reîntorc spre casă, Like Edgar Poe, I go back home ―
Ori ca Verlaine, topit de băutură ― like Verlaine, mellowed by alcohol.
Şi-n noaptea asta de nimic nu-mi pasă. A night to have no cares.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Ninge grozav pe câmp la abator Heavy snow lies near the slaughter house
Şi sânge cald se scurge pe canal; where hot blood runs on the ground.
Plină-i zăpada de sânge animal ― The snow turns red. The world
Şi ninge mereu pe un trist patinor... has become a red skating rink.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Scârţâie toamna din crengi ostenite From weary branches, in old fences,
Pe garduri bătrâne, pe streşini de lemn, under wooden eaves ― autumn shrieks.
Şi frunzele cad ca un sinistru semn Leaves fall, portending evil
În liniştea grădinii adormite. in a silent, sleepy garden.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Pălind Fading
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Decembre December
Şi mână fotoliul spre sobă, Push the armchair near the stove.
La horn să ascult vijelia, I'll listen to the hurricane in the chimney
Sau zilele mele ― totuna ― or to my days; in any case,
Aş vrea să le-nvăţ simfonia. I'd like to learn their symphony.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Negru Black
Vibrau scântei de vis... noian de negru; Phantasmic sparks beam from a mass of black,
Carbonizat, amorul fumega ― my love fossilized, leaving
Parfum de pene arse, şi ploua... a scent of burnt feathers in the rain.
Negru, numai noian de negru... Leaving black, only a mass of black.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Nevroză Depression
Ea plânge şi-a căzut pe clape, She cries, she falls on the keys,
Şi geme greu ca în delir... she moans, she rages . . .
În dezacord clavirul moare, The piano dies in discord,
Şi ninge ca-ntr-un cimitir. snow blankets the cemetery.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Melancolie Melancholy
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Amanţii, mai bolnavi, mai trişti, Feverish and sad, lovers on the streets
Pe drumuri fac gesturi ciudate ― make strange gestures.
Iar frunze, de veşnicul somn, Heavy soaked leaves continue
Cad grele, udate. to fall.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Veşnicie, Endless
Enervare... resentment.
Din fanfare funerare Autumn blows her agony
Toamna sună, agonie... in funereal fanfares.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Copacii rari şi ninşi par de cristal. Rare snowed trees seem crystal.
Chemări de dispariţie mă sorb, I think of disappearing
Pe când, tăcut, se-ntoarce-acelaşi corb, while the same raven turns back,
Tăind orizontul, diametral. obliquely cutting the horizon.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Alean Longing
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Havuzul din dosul palatului mort The fountain behind the deserted palace
Mai aruncă, mai plouă, mai plânge ― still sprays, still rains, still weeps ―
Şi stropii căzând, în amurg, iau culori: at dusk its falling drops wear the colors
De sineală, de aur, de sânge. of sky, of gold, of blood.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Pulvis Dust
În faţa ta sunt cel mai laş. Facing you, I am the greatest coward.
Imensitate, veşnicie, ― Enormity, eternity ―
Iubesc o fată din oraş... I love a girl from this town.
Învaţă-mă filosofie. Teach me philosophy.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Sunt câţiva morţi în oraş, iubito, My love, some in this town are dead.
Chiar pentru asta am venit să-ţi spun; I visit especially to tell you this
Pe catafalc de caldură-n oraş, ― and that, because of heat on the bier,
Încet, cadavrele se descompun. dead bodies slowly rot.
Cei vii se mişcă şi ei descompuşi, Although they move, the living also rot.
Cu lutul de caldură asudat; From the earth the heat draws sweat.
E miros de cadavre, iubito, From the smell of death
Şi azi, chiar sânul tău e mai lăsat. even your breast droops.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Toamnă 1 Autumn 1
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Singur 1 Alone 1
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Trudit Exhausted
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Amurg 1 Evening 1
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Altfel Otherwise
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Panoramă Panorama
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Pustiu... Empty . . .
Departe, în cetate viaţa tropota... Far away in the town, life raged . . .
O, simţurile-mi toate se enervau fantastic... All of my senses were upset,
Dar în lugubrul sălii pufneau în râs sarcastic but in that mourning hall irony burst into laughter ―
Şi Poe, şi Baudelaire, şi Rollinat. Poe, Baudelaire, and Rollinat.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Nocturnă 1 Nocturne 1
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Largo Largo
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Plouă Rain
Da, plouă cum n-am mai văzut... Rain falls as I've never seen.
Şi grele tălăngi adormite, Hypnotic. Heavy cowbells
Cum sună sub şuri învechite! ring in old sheds,
Cum sună în sufletu-mi mut! ring in my mute soul!
Oh, plânsul tălăngii când plouă! Oh, the tolling of cowbells in rain!
Oh, plânsul tălăngii când plouă! Oh, the tolling of cowbells in rain!
Oh, plânsul tălăngii când plouă! Oh, the tolling of cowbells in rain!
Oh, plânsul tălăngii când plouă! Oh, the tolling of cowbells in rain!
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Primăvară... Spring.
O pictură parfumată cu vibrări de violet. A fragrant painting vibrates with violet.
În vitrine, versuri de un nou poet, The work of a new poet is sold in the shops.
În oraş suspină un vals din fanfară. The band celebrates with a waltz.
O lungă deşteptare zvoneşte împrejur, There are murmurs far and everywhere
E clar şi numai soare. of awakening under a clear sun.
La geamul unei fabrici o pală lucrătoare At a factory window, a pale worker
Aruncă o privire în zarea de azur. gazes toward a blue horizon.
O nouă primăvară pe vechile dureri... To cover old sorrows a new spring comes.
Apar din nou ţăranii pe hăul din câmpie, Farmers return to the fields.
În infinit pământul se simte tresăltând: The earth trembles with possibilities.
Vor fi acum de toate cum este orişicând; There will be plenty as always.
Dar iar rămâne totul o lungă teorie. At least, that's the theory we repeat.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Matinală Sunrise
Gol e-al sânului buchet, The heart of the bouquet was stolen ―
Floare goală, somnoroasă... stripped, sleepy flower.
Trist, cu roza sângeroasă, Hesitant, with a blood rose
Bat în geamul violet. I tap on your violet window.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Acum, stă parcul devastat, fatal, The park lies in ruins, devastated,
Mâncat de cancer şi ftizie, devoured by cancer and consumption,
Pătat de roşu carne-vie ― stained sore red of flesh rubbed raw ―
Acum, se-nşiră scene de spital. a landscape of hospital scenes.
Acum, cad foi de sânge-n parcul gol. In the empty park, blood leaves now fall
Pe albe statui feminine; upon pale female statues,
Pe alb model de forme fine, upon white models of the finest form ―
Acum, se-nşiră scene de viol... a landscape of violation.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Poemă în oglindă
Poem in the Mirror
În salonul plin de vise,
În oglinda larg-ovală încadrată în argint, In the dreaming room,
Bate toamna, in the wide, oval mirror framed with silver,
Şi grădina cangrenată, autumn knocks.
În oglinda larg-ovală încadrată în argint. Also the dying garden
in the wide, oval mirror framed with silver.
În fotoliu, ostenită, în largi falduri de mătase,
Pe când cade violetul, Tired in your armchair, deep in silk's wide folds,
Tu citeşti nazalizând while violet drops low,
O poemă decadentă, cadaveric parfumată, your bored, nasal voice
Monotonă. recites a poem that stinks of death,
monotonously.
Eu prevăd poema roză a iubirii viitoare...
I see, instead, the rosy poem of a future love . . .
Dar pierdută, cu ochi bolnavi,
Furi, ironic, împrejurul din salonul parfumat. Your glazed eyes tell me you're lost,
Şi privirea-ţi cade vagă peste apa larg-ovală, and your irony steals the scent from the room.
Pe grădina cangrenată, Your gaze drifts across the oval pond,
Peste toamna din oglindă ― over the dying garden,
Adormind... over the mirror's autumn.
You sleep.
Eu prevăd poema roză a iubirii viitoare...
I see the rosy poem of a future love . . .
Însă pal mă duc acuma în grădina devastată
Şi pe masa părăsită ― albă marmoră sculptată ― Pale, I enter the ravaged garden
În veşminte-mi funebre, And, on an abandoned table of white sculpted marble,
Mă întind ca şi un mort, in my mourning clothes,
Peste mine punând roze, flori pălite,-ntârziate I lie as dead.
Ca şi noi... I cover myself with roses, pale late flowers
like us.
Zi, finala melodie din clavirul prăfuit,
Or ajunge plânsul apei din havuzele-nnoptate. Play one last song on the dusty piano.
Vezi, din anticul fotoliu ― Make autumn weep in the darkened fountains.
Agonia violetă, From your antique armchair
Catafalcul, watch the violet agony ―
Şi grădina cangrenată, the bier,
În oglinda larg-ovală încadrată în argint... the poisoned garden ―
in the wide, oval mirror framed with silver.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Alb White
Orchestra începu cu-o indignare graţioasă. With graceful hesitation, the orchestra began.
Salonul alb visa cu roze albe ― The white room dreamt of roses,
Un vals de voaluri albe... a waltz of white veils,
Spaţiu, infinit, de o tristeţă armonioasă... an endless space of dulcet sadness.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Şi-n toamna asta udă, mai putredă ca cele ce s-au dus, In this wet autumn, more miserable than those past,
Când vântul va boci, din nou, la cei de jos, la cei de sus, ― when those below and those above hear the wind's lament,
La geamul tău, în spaima nopţii, ca un prelung final, in the fear of night at your window like a broken record
Voi repeta că anii trec mereu mai greu, şi mai brutal. I’ll repeat that the years grow more difficult, more cruel.
Va bate ploaia... şi târziu, la geamul tău voi plânge-ncet. The rain will continue to fall and late, beside your window,
Va rătăci alcoolizat, apoi, în noapte, un schelet, ― ceaselessly I'll cry. My drunken frame will wander the night,
Nimic tu nu vei auzi din câte voi avea de spus... never to be heard by you . . .
În toamna asta udă, mai putredă ca cele ce s-au dus. In this wet autumn, more miserable than those past.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Ninge secular, tăcere, pare a fi bine, Snow falls from centuries. Silence, all seems well.
Prin oraşul alb, doar vântul trece-ntârziat ― Night wind is the only traveler in this white town ―
Ninge, parcă toţi muriră, parcă toţi au înviat... snow falls and it is as if all have died, have risen again.
Dorm volumele savante-n îngheţatele vitrine. A scholar's books sleep in frozen windows.
Printre ziduri, peste turnuri depărtate, Beyond the walls, over distant towers.
Ninge cu nimic în noaptea vastă, ning bancnote ― it snows trifles in this vast night, or it snows banknotes ―
Numai vântul singur plânge alte note... but the solitary wind cries other notes.
Umbra mea se adânceşte-n cartiere democrate. My shadow analyzes the democratic districts.
Ninge grandios în oraşul vast cum nu mai este, Snow falls abundantly over this endless town.
Ning la cinematografe grave drame sociale, Serious social dramas snow into the cinemas
Pe când vântul hohoteşte-n bulevarde glaciale... while the wind roars down icy boulevards.
― Dar cine poate să explice această tristă poveste? Who can explain this sad story?
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Toamna-n grădină şi-acordă vioara, In the garden, autumn tunes her violin,
Strada-i pustie... the street is empty
Oraşul e plin de hambare, ― in this town full of barns ―
De pâinea cea nouă duduie moara. the mill is full of new bread.
O frunză s-a lăsat pe-o mână-ntinsă care cere... A leaf falls on a beggar's hand.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Toamna sună-n geam frunze de metal, Autumn strikes my window with metal leaves,
Vânt. wind.
În tăcerea grea, gând şi animal Unbearable silence, a thought, an animal:
Frânt. tired.
În odaie, trist sună lemnul mut: In my room the silent floor snaps:
Poc. crack!
Umbre împrejur într-un gol, tăcut, Shadows jump all over the empty, silent
Loc. place.
Să mă las pe pat, ochii să-i închid, Should I lie on the bed? Close my eyes?
Pot. Chance.
În curând, încet va cădea în vid Hope will slowly fall into emptiness
Tot. all.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Nocturnă 2 Nocturne 2
De-acum... Now.
Auzi, ploaia plânge pe drum Listen, outside the rain sheds its tears ―
Pe un adânc tumult, A serious dispute centers on
Pe urma unui mic pantof într-un parc de demult... a scrap of a small shoe in an old park . . .
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Era mai demult o stradă, Once, long ago, there was a street,
O şcoală, şi bruma cădea ― a school, covered with frost .
Prin săli, ca nimeni să-l vadă, In a classroom, hidden,
Un elev singuratic pălea. a solitary student paled.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Singur 2 Alone 2
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Amurg 2 Evening 2
Crai-nou verde-pal, şi eu singur A pale-green new moon shines through that branch
Prin crengile cu sunet de schelet, ― that rattles like the knees of a skeleton.
Învineţit ca un cadavru... Me, a bruised corpse ― alone.
― Vino-n zăvoiul violet. Come visit these violet woods.
Or, nu! s-aprind luminile-n oraş... Or don't! Lights blanket the town.
Sunt alţii şi un alt poet ― Other people, another poet ―
E mult de când dormim în umbră, We together have slept such a long time
În cimitirul violet... in this violet cemetery.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Noapte Night
Se-ntind bulevarde-n noapte de vară, Boulevards stretch into the summer night,
Pe arbori, electrică lumină ― streetlights climb trees.
La gară zvâcneşte o maşină At the station a car idles,
Şi-n gol, tresar signale de gară. train signals flash messages in vain.
Pe cer de safir, comori de avari... Misers' diamonds twinkle in the sapphire sky,
Tăcerea în gol vibrează cu zvon, ― noisy silence vibrates in the void.
Oraşul, cu-ncetul, pare-un salon, ― The town becomes a room in which
Acuma, în somn, tresar fete mari. young women shiver in their sleep.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Strigoii
The Ghosts
Cu roşii fanare, galbene, verzi
Trec noaptea strigoii prin lanuri de grâu With lamps of red, yellow, and green
Şi câinii spre lanuri în noapte tot bat ― night ghosts pass through fields of grain.
Strigoii la crâşmă în pod au intrat, Dogs bark at the black fields.
Şi podul se vede bizar luminat Ghosts flow into the attic of the inn,
De roşii fanare, galbene, verzi. the attic is lit extravagantly
by red lamps, yellow ones, and green.
Strigoii, din pod, îşi iau înapoi,
Lăsate din viaţă, demult, amanete... From the attic the ghosts reclaim
Aşa spune basmul ce azi l-am uitat hostages from the times of their lives.
Că noaptea, la crâşmă, apar siluete A story I forgot tells how
Cu roşii fanare, galbene, verzi. in the attic night, silhouettes appear
with red lamps and yellow and green.
Dar când despre ziuă cocoşu-a cântat,
Cad buzna, din pod, grămezi de strigoi Then, in the dawn, when the cock sings,
Şi-n hău, peste lanuri, strigoii se pierd a gathering of ghosts falls from the attic.
Roşii, galbeni şi verzi. Across the fields these ghosts are lost
in red and yellow and green.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Un larg şi gol salon vedeam prin draperii, Through curtains I saw a large room ―
Iar la clavir o brună despletită At the piano a dark-haired girl
Cânta purtând o mantie cernită, in a mourning cape. Her sad song
Şi trist cânta, gemând între făclii. floated between flaming candles:
Apoi, veni şi-o blondă în salon... A pale girl entered the room.
Şi-aproape goală prinse, adormită, Undressed and weary,
De pe clavir, o scripcă înnegrita ― she lifted from the piano a black violin
Şi urmări, pierdută, marşul monoton. and joined the tiresome march.
Înaltă, despletită, albă ca de var, With loose, tousled hair, pale as lime,
Mi se părea Ofelia nebună... she resembled mad Ophelia.
Şi lung gemea arcuşu-acum pe strună Under her bow the strings moaned
Îngrozitorul marş lugubru, funerar. the mournful funeral march.
Târziu, murea clavirul lung gemând; In a burst of agony, the piano died.
Luptau făcliile în agonie... The candles sputtered and went out.
Şi-ncet se-ntinse-o noapte de vecie, In gathering darkness
Şi-n urmă, greu, un corp am auzit căzând. I heard a body fall.
Vai, de-atunci îmi pare lumea şi mai tristă. The world's gloom has grown.
Viaţa-i melodie funerară... I cannot forget the mad fiddler
Şi nu mai uit nebuna lăutară ― and the sad piano player.
Şi transfigurata, trista claviristă. Life is a funeral song.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Vom spune că toamna a venit... foarte trist ― Say that autumn's here with all its sadness ―
La o fereastră melancolică, mi s-a părut ceva, At a dark window, I've seen something.
Însă m-a trezit un glas pozitivist... An optimistic voice has startled me.
Vânt umed, şi frunza zboară, undeva. A wet wind blows, leaves fly away ― to somewhere.
Eu nu mai ştiu nimic, şi m-am întors acasă, I no longer know anything, have returned home.
Uitaţi-vă ce gol, ce ruină-n amurg ― How empty it is; twilight shows ruins.
Amurgul galben m-a-ngălbenit, şi m-apasă, The yellow dusk makes me yellow, shatters me
Ca geamuri galbene, cu lacrimi ce nu mai curg. like old windows yellowed with old tears.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Dormitând Sleeping
În pâcla nopţilor de iarnă, cu hornuri ce fumează, In the mist of winter nights with smoking chimneys,
Când lămpile de stradă cu miile veghează, where thousands of street lamps keep their watch,
În pâcla colorată mă duc abia simţit ― in this colored mist I scarcely can walk ―
Mai mult ca orişicine, îmi pare c-am greşit. more than the rest, I have done wrong.
Am fost atât de singur, şi singur am rămas, I was lonely, am lonely still.
În creierul meu plânge un nemilos taifas... Cruel conversations scream inside my head.
De sună-n ziduri ninse vreo muzică de bal, I stop, hear music through snow-covered walls,
Mai stau, şi plânge-n mine un vals provincial. inside me a provincial waltz.
De la fereastra ninsă, cu finele perdele, Away from frosty windows, hung with finest curtains,
Mă duc pe străzi de gheaţă cu spuza lor de stele; I move down icy streets heaped with stars.
Şi-n mijlocul odăii, tot singur mă prezint: Back in the middle of my room, I introduce myself
― Valsa o blondă-n alb, şi cu pantofi de-argint... to the blond in a white dress who waltzes in silver shoes.
Aprind, pe masă, lampa, şi iarăşi mă dezbrac, I light the table lamp, remove my coat.
Aş vrea să-mi fac un ceai, şi stau, şi nu-l mai fac... I want some tea but hesitate, don't make it.
Mă clatină spre pat al insomniei pas ― Insomnia keeps me near my bed.
În creierul meu plânge-un nemilos taifas. Cruel conversations scream inside my head.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Nocturnă 3 Nocturne 3
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Fanfară Fanfare
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Mă prăfuise timpul dormind peste hârtii... Asleep over papers covered by the dust of ages ―
Se întindea noianul de unde nu mai vii; Much time has passed since you left;
O umbră, în odaie, pe umeri m-apăsa ― In my room, a shadow heavy on my shoulders ―
Vedeam ce nu se vede, vorbea ce nu era. I saw what can't be seen, I was told what never was.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
De iarnă 1 Winter 1
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Ninge Snow
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Igienă Hygiene
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Şi ninge Snowfall
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
În noaptea viforoasă de vei putea învinge If, in the turbulent night, you can forge
O tristă-ngăduire, sau un humor secret ― a painful acceptance, or a secret joke ―
Vor auzi în turnuri, se vor uita cum ninge... those in the towers will hear as they watch the snow fall.
― O, cum omul a devenit concret... The man is real.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Toamnă 2 Autumn 2
Ea plânge... el palid se pierde As she cries out, he pales and loses himself
Prin târgul sălbatec, sever; in the forsaken
Şi pare tabloul acesta and forbidding scene,
Că-i antic şi plin de mister! old and full of mystery.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Nocturnă 4 Nocturne 4
Nu e nimeni... plouă... plânge-o cucuvaie No one is here. Rain falls. In the night, on a tile roof
Pe-un acoperiş de piatră-n noapte cu ecouri de şivoaie, a young owl calls and the sound echoes large.
Vai, e ora de-altădată, umbre ude se-ntretaie At this old hour, wet shadows meet. Rain-soaked,
Şi-n curentul unui gang aţipesc, plin de ploaie. I sleep in the draft from a passage.
Tabla tuburilor sună aiurarea tuturor... The rush of downspout water contains
O grăbită alchimie, fâlfâie o vâlvătaie, the wanderer's wasted alchemy, a floating blaze.
Vai, e ora de-altădată, dungi de ploaie se-ntretaie, At this old hour, floods mingle,
Un oraş de piatră doarme... toate dor. this stone town sleeps, full of pain.
Nu e nimeni... plouă... plânge-o cucuvaie. No one is here. Rain falls. A young owl calls.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Frig Cold
Toamna rupe afişe şi flori, Autumn rips posters, rips petals from flowers.
E mai trist departe-n prăpăstii ― Far away in the abyss greater sadness rises.
Să faceţi foc de mai multe ori; Feed the fire several times each day.
O, trebuie să fie trist departe-n prăpăstii... Gloom fills the abyss.
Fulgi de zăpadă rătăcitori... Lost snowflakes wander.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Ego Ego
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Pantofii Shoes
Pe trist catafalc, cu tristă regină, You will dress the icy feet
Veţi sta în piciorul de gheaţă, şi sfânt, of the sainted queen, sad in her coffin.
Şi-n trecerea vremii veţi arde-n mormânt, In time, a grave will destroy you ―
Pantofi de aur, expuşi în vitrină... golden shop-window shoes.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Aiurea Nonsense
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Psalm Psalm
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Contrast Contrast
Oh, sunt fecioare cu obrazul pal, Yes, there are pale virgins,
Modele albe de forme fine ― white models with fine forms
Şi singure dorm, albe, şi senine that sleep alone, pale and serene,
În albele crivate, de cristal... in white crystal coffins.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Piano Piano
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Mister Mystery
Par casele triste castele... Cottages and castles alike are sad ―
Amorul, aici, a murit in these places love died.
Şi poate că plâng la clavire Virgins shake loosen their hair and cry ―
Fecioare cu păr despletit... and play the piano.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
...Şi delirând, când corul curge and trample the choir's melody.
Se face gândul mai amar ― Their thoughts grow bitter ―
Ei vor o noapte de orgie They want a night of mindless passion
Pe canapeaua din altar... on the altar bench.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Epitaf Epitaph
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Destul Enough
Când voi fi liniştit, voi scrie un vers When I am calm, I'll write a verse.
În care veţi vedea că sunt părăsit ― You'll see in it that I am lonely,
Voind să descifrez ceea ce era şters, wanting to decipher something erased.
Aproape, nu mai ştiu ce-am voit... I no longer know what I wanted.
Plângând, mi-am spus să nu mai plâng ― When I wept, I told myself to stop ―
Eu aveam... I had . . .
Cine mai ştie, şi eu, ce gândeam, Who knows what I was thinking,
Altădată, în crâng! some other time, in the grove.
Voi scrie un vers, când voi fi liniştit... I'll write a verse, when I am calm.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Regret Regret
De mult, de mult cunosc doi plopi I've known these two poplars for a long time.
Ce-mi stau şi azi în cale ― They block my way . . . even today.
Îmi place mult ca să-i privesc, ― Though I love to gaze at them,
Dar mă cuprinde-o jale... I sink to grief each time I do.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Ca mâine Tomorrow
Ca mâini şi-a noastră va cădea Perhaps tomorrow our star will fall
În stricta veşnicie ― into perfect eternity.
Cine-o căta mâhnit spre ea? Who will look for it?
Vai, nimeni... cine ştie! No one knows.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
De iarnă 2 Winter 2
― O, corb! Raven!
Ce rost mai are-un suflet orb... What is the importance of a soul that cannot see ―
Ce vine singur în pustiu ― Alone and empty
Când anii trec cum nu mai ştiu, while years pass unnoticed?
O, corb! Raven!
Ce rost mai are-un suflet orb... What is the importance of a soul that cannot see?
― Chiar! Amen!
― O, corb! Raven!
Ce rost mai are-un suflet orb ― What is the importance of a soul that cannot see
Întârzieri, mormânt închis ― at this late hour that the grave is closed?
E oare viaţă, sau e vis ― Is this life or a dream?
O, corb! Raven!
Ce rost mai are-un suflet orb... What is the importance of a soul that cannot see?
― Chiar! Amen!
Târziu, şi ninge, noaptea se lasă The hour is late, snow is falling, night comes.
Sunt singur acum... All alone
Iată oraşul, nimeni pe drum ― I watch the town. No one is on the road ―
Pace, nimic, am ajuns acasă! There is peace. There is nothing. I am home!
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Iar, mâni, cu-al iernei trist pustiu, Tomorrow when winter empty comes
De mine-atunci nu vei mai şti ― you will know nothing of me ―
Nu mai veni, e prea târziu, Don't come. It's too late.
Nu mai veni! Don't come.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Sărmanii plopi de lângă moară Pity the poplars beside the mill
Cum stau de singuri, singurei ― where it is lonely.
Şi cum mai ninge peste ei... Snow buried completely
Sărmanii plopi de lângă moară! those unlucky poplars by the mill.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Renunţare Giving Up
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Controversă Controversy
''Era acel tânăr prea singur! "He was a lonely young man
Dar toţi îl iubeau... though everyone loved him.
― Atunci, nu era aşa singur! Or he wasn't lonely then.
Sau ceilalţi nu erau. Or the others weren't.
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plumb de iarnă / lead of winter poems by george bacovia translated from the Romanian by Doru Radu and JoAnne Growney © 2002, Criterion Publishing
Toamna în grădină îşi acordă vioara. In my garden autumn tunes her violin,
Plâng strunele jalnic, lung şi prelung mournful strings ― long, prolonged.
Şi-n goala odaie acorduri ajung... Chords rise to an empty room
Şi plâng în odaie, şi eu din vioară... where I, with my violin, also cry.
Plâng strunele toate lung şi prelung. Mournful strings ― long, prolonged.
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