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 |