Poèmes

(Macedonski – Psalmi moderni. Doamne, toate….

Doamne, toate sunt prin tine
Și averea, și puterea,
Fericirea, mângâierea:
Ce ne trebuie știi bine.
Dai cu dreaptă socotință;

Mulțumiri și suferință:
Lui Iisus i-ai dat o cruce
Căci știai c-o poate duce;
Când dureri ne dai și nouă,
Ne dai plânsul ca o rouă;
Când dai marilor puterea,
Nu le dai nici o plăcere,
Când dai răilor cruzime,
Dai blândețe la victime.
Ești puterea înțeleaptă
Și justiția cea dreaptă;
Fă oricând ce vrei din mine.
    Doamne, toate sunt prin tine..

 

The Haunted Palace-E.A.Poe

I.
In the greenest of our valleys,
By good angels tenanted,
Once fair and stately palace –
Radiant palace –reared its head.
In the monarch Thought’s dominion –
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair.

II.
Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow;
(This –all this –was in the olden
Time long ago)
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odour went away.

III.
Wanderers in that happy valley
Through two luminous windows saw
Spirits moving musically
To a lute’s well-tuned law,
Round about a throne, where sitting
(Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.

IV.
And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing
And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.

V.
But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch’s high estate;
(Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him, desolate!)
And, round about his home, the glory
That blushed and bloomed
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

VI.
And travellers now within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows, see
Vast forms that move fantastically
To a discordant melody;
While, like a rapid ghastly river,
Through the pale door,
A hideous throng rush out forever,
And laugh –but smile no more.

Offrandes
Donner, il faut donner, qu’avons-nous d’autre à faire ?
S’il n’y a point de Ciel, et pas non plus d’Enfer,
S’il n’y a que la vie, cette flamme éphémère,
La terre, où nous errons en mordant la poussière.

Donner, il faut donner, que veux-tu donc garder ?
Crois-tu qu’avoir pour toi pourra te libérer
Ou te rendre plus fort ? Non, tu es aveuglé !

Donner, il faut donner, mais qu’as-tu à offrir ?
Ton temps, fais-en l’offrande, et aussi ton sourire,
Dis les mots qui consolent, et ceux qui font grandir
Fais don d’une émotion, aime… Ça peut suffire.

Donner, il faut donner, et sans rien en attendre,
Offrir, se libérer de cette soif de prendre,
De posséder, d’avoir, de ne jamais rien rendre.
Qui veut d’un coffre fort qu’on a rempli de cendres ?

Donner plutôt qu’avoir, et desserrer les poings,
Apporter du plaisir avec le plus grand soin,
Repousser la douleur, la peine et le chagrin,
Sans vouloir être un prince, sans vouloir être un saint.