09 Feb

„Vântul” de Vasile Alecsandri

Vântul e copil zburdalnic, fără milă, nici mustrare,
Care-mpinge-n rea furtună toate vasele pe mare,
Şi, ca lupul dupa turme, se alungă după nori,
Şi doboară stejari falnici şi desfoaie blânde flori.
A merciless young rascal is the Wind. His chief delight
Is to worry ships at sea with savage storms by day and night,
Like a dog-wolf harrying sheep, he chases clouds and scatters showers,
Lays the stately oak-trees low, and snaps the stems of fragile flowers.

Vântul fură o scânteie şi-n girezi el o aruncă,
Privind cum se perde rodul unui an întreg de muncă,
Apoi merge la copile ce culeg laur de in
Şi râzând le despleteşte, desmierdand albul lor sân.
A brand he whirls aloft and drops among the farmer’s gear,
Chuckling to see the flames consume the produce of a year ;
Then swoops down on a group of girls — deranges all their dresses,
Tears off their silken ‘kerchiefs, and their snowy necks caresses.
În tuspatru părţi a lumei turbat vântul se tot duce,
Ca păgânul pe mormânturi răsunând creştina cruce,
Şi de-a moriilor blastemuri alungat, fuge nebun
Pintre tufe-nţepatoare şi nuiele de alun.
In all four quarters of the globe he blusters and he raves,
Upsetting, pagan-like, the crosses set o’er Christian graves; —
Pursued by curses of the dead, through brake and bush he tries
To dash, all reckless of the thorns that tear him as he flies.
Iar când el se-ntoarce-n codri, mama lui ce-l tot boceşte
Zile-ntregi îl scaldă-n lapte şi de răni îl lecuieşte …
– „Nu mai plânge, măiculiţă! zice el, aşa cum sânt,
Când sărut ochii lor veseli, se dau fetele în vânt!”
His abode is in the forest. There arrived, his mother dear
Bathes his hurts in milk, and chides him, shedding many a bitter tear,”
Weep no more, my mammy sweet,” he cries, ” I know that I have sinned —
But when I kiss their pretty eyes, the girls all love the wind !”
Vasile Alecsandri traducere de William Beatty-Kingston

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