Pauză de gânduri

What upset me today March 19, 2012

Filed under: Cu sau Fără Rost — elenabejinariu @ 7:25 pm
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Today I had been a busy day, I think. Whatever, I had done almost nothing, but some things have annoyed me very much. First of all:

  • my neighbor that listen music, bad and ugly music, very loud
  • a girl in the Bus that let her dog to stay on a chair
  • and the most annoying thing was that I waste my time for nothing

Maybe is the spring’s fault, maybe is mine, but, I felt that I’m not a such a good friend with the time. Probably is better to read some lyrics by Baudelaire, Verlaine, or Bacovia.

Charles Baudelaire – Correspondances

La Nature est un temple où de vivants piliers
Laissent parfois sortir de confuses paroles;
L’homme y passe à travers des forêts de symboles
Qui l’observent avec des regards familiers.

Comme de longs échos qui de loin se confondent
Dans une ténébreuse et profonde unité,
Vaste comme la nuit et comme la clarté,
Les parfums, les couleurs et les sons se répondent.

Il est des parfums frais comme des chairs d’enfants,
Doux comme les hautbois, verts comme les prairies,
– Et d’autres, corrompus, riches et triomphants,

Ayant l’expansion des choses infinies,
Comme l’ambre, le musc, le benjoin et l’encens
Qui chantent les transports de l’esprit et des sens.

Paul Verlaine-It Rains in My Heart

It rains in my heart
As it rains on the town,
What languor so dark
That it soaks to my heart?

Oh sweet sound of the rain
On the earth and the roofs!
For the dull heart again,
Oh the song of the rain!

It rains for no reason
In this heart that lacks heart.
What? And no treason?
It’s grief without reason.

By far the worst pain,
Without hatred, or love,
Yet no way to explain
Why my heart feels such pain!

 

Paul Verlaine-Il pleure dans mon coeur

Il pleure dans mon coeur
Comme il pleut sur la ville.
Quelle est cette langueur
Qui pénêtre mon coeur?

O bruit doux de la pluie
Par terre et sur les toits!
Pour un coeur qui s’ennuie,
O le chant de la pluie!

Il pleure sans raison
Dans ce coeur qui s’écoeure.
Quoi! nulle trahison?
Ce deuil est sans raison.

C’est bien la pire peine
De ne savoir pourquoi,
Sans amour et sans haine,
Mon coeur a tant de peine!

 

George Bacovia-Nervi de primăvară

Primăvară…
O pictură parfumată cu vibrări de violet.
În vitrine, versuri de un nou poet,
În oras, suspină un vals de fanfară.

O lungă primăvară de visuri si păreri …

O lungă desertare zvoneste împrejur,
E clar si numai soare.
La geamul unei fabrici o pală lucrătoare
Aruncă o privire în zarea de azur.

O nouă primăvară pe vechile dureri …

Apar din nou țăranii pe hăul de câmpie,
În infinit pământul se simte tresăltând :
Vor fi acum de toate cum este orișicând,
Dar iar rămâne totul o lungă teorie.

O, când va fi un cântec de alte primăveri ? !

 

 

George Bacovia -Sic transit …

I

There, where there is no one,
Not even shadows,
there to where
multitudes of years go,
and the din of the day,
and the silence of the night …
Where all things are known …
There, say travelers,
Only outbursts of fire
Denounce themselves
dismally, metallically,
From minute to minute.
There, where there is no one
and no more need
For any words.

II

And look, we’ve been surprised by evening,
Which is nothing by day.
Just like
So many times before.
Tales …
of work,
Leisure,
the banquet in the shadows,
Or a time of happiness. And look, we’ve been surprised by evening,
which is nothing by day.

 

 

George Bacovia-Sic transit…

I

Acolo, unde nu-i nimeni,
Nici umbre,
unde se duc
Multime de ani,
Si zgomotul zilei,
Si tacerea noptii…
Unde toate sunt stiute…
Acolo, spun calatorii,
Ca numai rafale de foc
Se denunta
Lugubru, metalic,
Din minut în minut. Acolo, unde nu-i nimeni,
Si nu mai trebuie
Nici un cuvânt.

II

Si iata, ne-a surprins seara
Peste zi nefiind nimic.
La fel
Ca de atâtea ori.
Povesti …
de munca,
Lene,
banchetul din umbra,
Sau timp de fericire.
Si iata, ne-a surprins seara,
Peste zi nefiind nimic.

 

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