18 Noi

„Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat Drowned in a Tub of Goldfishes” de Thomas Gray

’Twas on a lofty vase’s side,
Where China’s gayest art had dyed
The azure flowers that blow;
Demurest of the tabby kind,
The pensive Selima, reclined,
Gazed on the lake below.
Spre vasul falnic şi obez
Pe care un artist chinez
Pictase nenufari,
Selima – cea mai sfiicioasă
Din seminţia pisicoasă –
Privea cu ochii mari.

Her conscious tail her joy declared;
The fair round face, the snowy beard,
The velvet of her paws,
Her coat, that with the tortoise vies,
Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,
She saw; and purred applause.
Ce vede-i place – dă din coadă:
Chip rond, musteaţă de zăpadă,
Şi tălpi de catifea,
Strai: cum ţestoasele – tărcat,
Ochi verzi, urechi ca de agat;
Şi ca-n extaz torcea…
Still had she gazed; but ’midst the tide
Two angel forms were seen to glide,
The genii of the stream;
Their scaly armour’s Tyrian hue
Through richest purple to the view
Betrayed a golden gleam.
S-a tot holbat; jos, în afund
Doi îngeri parcă-s, lunecând,
Două-ale undei genii:
Puteai solzoasele armuri
Că sunt de purpur scump să juri –
Două-aurii vedenii!
The hapless nymph with wonder saw;
A whisker first and then a claw,
With many an ardent wish,
She stretched in vain to reach the prize.
What female heart can gold despise?
What cat’s averse to fish?
Sărmana nimfă, ochi zgâit,
Cu jind spre pradă şi-a zbârlit
Musteaţa – da’n zadar!
Nici gheara nu i-a fost agilă…
De aur ce femei au silă?
Ce mâţă nu-i pescar?
Presumptuous maid! with looks intent
Again she stretch’d, again she bent,
Nor knew the gulf between.
(Malignant Fate sat by, and smiled)
The slippery verge her feet beguiled,
She tumbled headlong in.
Fată-ngâmfată! – ochi focos!
Se-ntinde iar, se-apleacă-n jos
Sfidând acel adânc.
(Rânjea destinul cel hain.)
Vai, laba-i lunecă puţin,
Şi-odată: bâldâbâc…
Eight times emerging from the flood
She mewed to every watery god,
Some speedy aid to send.
No dolphin came, no Nereid stirred;
Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard;
A Favourite has no friend!
Ieşind din unde de opt ori
Chema – miorlau! – într-ajutor
Toţi zeii de prin mare.
Dar nereidă, nici delfin,
Nici Tom, nici Susan nu prea vin:
Un favorit fraţi n-are!
From hence, ye beauties, undeceived,
Know, one false step is ne’er retrieved,
And be with caution bold.
Not all that tempts your wandering eyes
And heedless hearts, is lawful prize;
Nor all that glisters, gold.
De-aici tu chipeşule-nvaţă
Că-i greu să dregi o boroboaţă –
Precaut îndrăzneşte!
Nu tot ce-mbie ochi tehui
Ai drept să-nşfaci; nici aur nu-i
Chiar tot ce străluceşte.
Thomas Gray traducere de Tudor Dorin

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