Mircea Ivănescu - frunze

Mircea Ivănescu

frunze

aş vrea să mă aşez pe marginea trotuarului,
să aştept să se facă noapte la capătul străzii singurătatea
mea de acuma mai are
ceva la fel cu cea din copilărie,
când nu ştiam că trece pentru totdeauna
vremea? nu se poate răscumpăra
cu nimic vremea de atunci? nu mai rămâne
adevărat nici un gest, chiar aşezat
pe stradă cu capul în mâini?
şi lumina, care se spulberă pe obiecte,
şi obiectele se fac frunze,
şi se fac frunze.
_________________

feuilles

J'aimerais m'assoir au bord du trottoir
et attendre que la nuit vienne - ma solitude
d'aujourd'hui a-t-elle encore quelque chose
qui ressemble a celle de mon enfance?
quand je ne savais pas que le temps passe
pour toujours? aucun geste
ne reste-t-il plus vrai, meme assis
sur le trottoir la tete dans les mains?
et la lumiere qui s'anéantit sur les objets
et les objets qui se transforment en feuilles
et deviennent feuilles.

leaves

I would like to sit on the edge of the sidewalk
and wait for night to fall at the end of the street.
The loneliness
I now feel resembles still
the loneliness of my childhood,
when I did not know that time
is lost forever. Is there nothing that can redeem
that time? Is there not a single gesture
that remains true, even as I sit in the street,
my head buried in my hands?
The light crumbles on objects,
the objects turn into leaves,
they turn into leaves.

Category:

Education

Tags:

• luminita51
• Romanian poetry

[croseta]

Frunza,petala,foaie,strat...

O zi frumoasa de toamna sa ai Luminita mea draga.

[22silviu]

Minunat...My favourite...

[nycanonymous]

Multumesc pentru acest frumos tribut pentru cel mai mare poet roman contemporan.

[nycanonymous]

I would like to sit on the edge of the sidewalk and wait for night to fall at the end of the street. The loneliness I now feel resembles still the loneliness of my childhood, when I did not know that time is lost forever. Is there nothing that can redeem that time? Is there not a single gesture that remains true, even as I sit in the street, my head buried in my hands? The light crumbles on objects, the objects turn into leaves, they turn into leaves.

[gmihut]

Great video

[yd22t]

Merci Luminita pour ta belle traduction de

ce poème sur la solitude, celle de notre age, celle de notre enfance.

Mélodieuse musique qui accompagne le tourbillon des feuilles.