18 Iun

„As Ye Came from the Holy Land” de Walter Raleigh

As ye came from the holy land
Of Walsinghame,
Met you not with my true love
By the way as you came?
Cum veneai dinspre Walsingham,
Pământ sfânt, colţ de rai,
Dragostea-mi n-ai întâlnit
Pe drum, cum veneai?

How should I know your true love,
That have met many a one,
As I came from the holy land,
That have come, that have gone?
Dragostea de unde să-ţi ştiu
În drum spre pământul cel sfânt
Printre atâtea mulţimi
Suind, coborând?
She is neither white nor brown,
But as the heavens fair;
There is none hath her form divine
In the earth or the air.
Nu-i dalbă, nici oacheşă nu-i,
Ci rază ruptă din cer;
Mai dumnezeiască făptură
Nu ştiu pe pământ, în eter.
Such a one did I meet, good sir,
Such an angelic face,
Who like a nymph, like a queen, did appear
In her gait, in her grace.
Văzut-am văzut făptură asemeni,
Chip îngeresc, de neşters;
Crăiasă, nimfă părea
După farmecu-i mult, după mers.
She hath left me here alone
All alone, as unknown,
Who sometime did me lead with herself,
And me loved as her own.
Singur aici m-a lăsat,
Singur, ca unul necunoscut,
Ea ce ades cu sine mă lua
Şi-n inima ei m-a crescut.
What’s the cause that she leaves you alone
And a new way doth take,
That sometime did love you as her own,
And her joy did you make?
Din ce pricină singur te lasă
Să-şi afle alt rost,
Ea ce-n inima ei te-a crescut
Şi tu bucurie i-ai fost?
I have loved her all my youth,
But now am old, as you see:
Love likes not the falling fruit,
Nor the witherèd tree.
O iubesc din toţi anii mei tineri,
Dar azi sunt bătrân, negreşit,
Iubirii nu-i place rodul ce cade
Din pom veştejit.
Know that Love is a careless child,
And forgets promise past:
He is blind, he is deaf when he list,
And in faith never fast.
Ci află, iubirea-i copil zvăpăiat,
Nu-şi ţine cuvântul,
E oarbă şi surdă când vrea,
Şi-n credinţă ca vântul.
His desire is a dureless content,
And a trustless joy;
He is won with a world of despair,
And is lost with a toy.
Dorinţa ei, miez fără miez,
Bucurie săracă,
O câştigi cu-un noian de amar,
Şi o pierzi dintr-o joacă.
Of womankind such indeed is the love,
Or the word love abusèd,
Under which many childish desires
And conceits are excusèd.
Aceasta, aceasta-i iubirea femeii,
Cuvântul iubire jignit,
Sub carele multe dorinţi de copil
Şi toane – iertări şi-au găsit.
But true love is a durable fire,
In the mind ever burning,
Never sick, never dead, never cold,
From itself never turning.
Dar dragostea, dragostea-i foc nestins
Ce arde de-apururi în gând,
Ea nu-mbătrâneşte, nu moare,
Haină-i cu sine nicicând.
Walter Raleigh traducere de Dan Duţescu

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