26 feb.
„Lack of Steadfastness” de Geoffrey Chaucer
| Once this world was so steadfast and so stable That a man’s word was his obligation, And now it is so false and mutable, That word and deed, in their conclusion, Are unalike, for so turned upside down Is all this world, by gain and selfishness, That all is lost for lack of steadfastness. |
Era stei, stâncă lumea dineoare Şi datorie grea cuvântul dat; Acum făţarnică-i şi-amăgitoare, Când fapta de cuvânt s-a dezbinat, Precum vedem, tot lucru-i răsturnat; Cu mită şi cu îndărătnicie, Se pierde tot prin nestatornicie. |
| What makes this world of ours so variable But the pleasure folk take in dissension? Amongst us now a man is thought unable, Unless he can, by some vile collusion, Wrong his neighbour, or wreak his oppression. What causes this but such wilful baseness, That all is lost for lack of steadfastness? |
Cum de e lumea-atât de schimbătoare Decât că omu-i spre gâlcevi plecat? Un slăbănog se cheamă bunăoare Cel ce pe-aproapele nu l-a surpat Urzind, şi-n jug nedrept l-a aruncat. Nu oare prin voită josnicie Se pierde tot prin nestatornicie? |
| Truth is put down: reason is held a fable; Virtue has now no domination, Pity is exiled, no man is merciful. Through greed men blind discretion; The world has made such a permutation Of right to wrong, truth to fickleness, That all is lose for lack of steadfastness. |
Frânt e-adevărul, dreptul gând visare; Mila-n surghiun, de noi s-a-nstrăinat; Virtutea nu mai e stăpânitoare; Pismaş orbit e simţul delicat. De la ce-i drept când totu-i strămutat La rău, şi de la crez la fluşturie, Se pierde tot prin nestatornicie. |
| Envoy (to King Richard II) | Închinare Regelui Richard |
| O Prince, desire to be honourable, Cherish your folk, and hate extortion! Order that nothing which may prove shameful To your office, be done in your kingdom. Show openly your sword of castigation, Dread God: seek law, love truth and worthiness, And wed your folk again to steadfastness. |
O, principe, aspiră la onoare, Iubeşte neamul tău, şi ne-mpăcat Urăşte camăta! Nici o-ndurare Cui slava ta cu fapta-i a pătat. Fii paloşul ce pedepseşte-ndat. Pe Domnul teme-L, placă-ţi vrednicia, Şi-nsoară-ţi neamul cu statornicia. |
| Geoffrey Chaucer | traducere de Dan Duţescu |