Poeme/Poems

Fülszöveg

Every once in a while it happens that the transposition of a poem from one language into another is a triumph; then verses that for generations or only decades have cradled the innermost yearnings and hopes, the joys and terrors of those born into a certain language take on the resonance of World Poetry. Itdoes notseem to us a sign of inferiority that a culture that hears itself echoed only in terms of such nostalgia should strive to see its virtues transposed into the majestic music of Dante or Shakespeare, of Hölderlin or Racine. And when such a miracle does take place, seemingly fulfilling the eternal dream of those who see themselves as alchemists of the Word, one can indeed talk about a precious achievement of the spirit. How often has one yearned to be able to claim that Eminescu can findHölderlin's sounds smitten by the gods? Ali the more wonderful it is then to be able to savor the achingflame-like clarity of Doina§'s poetry resounding naturally and convincingly in the... Tovább

Fülszöveg

Every once in a while it happens that the transposition of a poem from one language into another is a triumph; then verses that for generations or only decades have cradled the innermost yearnings and hopes, the joys and terrors of those born into a certain language take on the resonance of World Poetry. Itdoes notseem to us a sign of inferiority that a culture that hears itself echoed only in terms of such nostalgia should strive to see its virtues transposed into the majestic music of Dante or Shakespeare, of Hölderlin or Racine. And when such a miracle does take place, seemingly fulfilling the eternal dream of those who see themselves as alchemists of the Word, one can indeed talk about a precious achievement of the spirit. How often has one yearned to be able to claim that Eminescu can findHölderlin's sounds smitten by the gods? Ali the more wonderful it is then to be able to savor the achingflame-like clarity of Doina§'s poetry resounding naturally and convincingly in the sensuous and intellectual music ofYeats. Therewas, notlongago, aman of dark wisdom playing with words who seemed to think that the translation of verse into another web of words, into another language, is a utopic endeavor. Andyet, even he, writing about Fear andNightfall by snowy woods, knew that, ultimately, in poetry everything is possible. Even its translation
MIRCEAIVANESCU Vissza