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imaginea utilizatorului navigare

Il vento scrive (Gabriele D'Annunzio)

...

Su la docile sabbia il vento scrive
con le penne dell'ala; e in sua favella
parlano i segni per le bianche rive.

Ma, quando il sol declina, d'ogni nota
ombra lene si crea, d'ogni ondicella,
quasi di ciglia su soave gota.

E par che nell'immenso arido viso
della pioggia s'immilli il tuo sorriso.

-------------------- Traducere (Dănuţ Grădinaru)

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imaginea utilizatorului Aranca

Landscape with hieroglyph

Peisaj cu hieroglifă - Marina Nicolaev

I kissed you secretly every time you brought rain
in the unknown space between hieroglyphs
your distant breath raised silence
a lateen of blood gliding on heart through the soft snow

I kissed you secretly every time you brought blight
into dark days

I waited for your growing from the stones’ flesh
across the salt that veiled
my past with the same dry tumor

Lingua: 
imaginea utilizatorului navigare

E' solo un vizio (Eugenio Montale)

[1973]

Fliaci travestiti da poeti
burocrati arroganti,
pedanti imbonitori
siete voi i vessilliferi:
portatori d'insegne sbiadite.
L'esser poeti non è un vanto.
E' solo un vizio di natura.
Un peso che s'ingroppa
con paura.

[66 poesie e altre]
[Diario Postumo]

-------------------- Traducere (Dănuţ Grădinaru)

E doar un viciu

Histrioni deghizaţi în poeţi
birocraţi aroganţi,

Lingua: 
imaginea utilizatorului Virgil

happiness II

...

there was a time you didn’t exist
a time even the thought of your existence wasn’t there
there was a time your parents didn’t exist
your grandparents and your great-grandparents were not born
there was a time your ancestors didn’t exist
not even the tribes you’re coming from
there was a time your nation history didn’t exist

Lingua: 
imaginea utilizatorului Thorkild

About angels, again

Traducere după Despre îngeri, din nou de Florin Hulubei

puerile this need to
try getting into the
smooth core of all things

there where into only the great absent
has inserted an essence
always more immaculate
than a winter morning
on an endless field

I take a closer look
the eye turned, the heart scared
the white sharpness of silence
cannot rip precisely

and all that remains is
an unsettling, but orgiastic
loneliness

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