Language: Romanian

Our 48hr Liveblogging Continues With Romanian EaL MARGENTO

We now have 42hrs left to raise $7,669 and hit our goal! Please keep your fingers crossed for it to happen.

MARGENTO (editor-at-large, Romania): Eutychia,” from our July 2012 issue, has been identified by Simona Popescu—poet, critic, and the foremost authority on Romanian poet Gellu Naum’s (1915 – 2001) work and life—as the Naumian poem par excellence, not in the sense that the rest of his huge oeuvre is contained in it, but because it stands out as one of the most comprehensive and emblematic expressions of the poet’s creed and poetics. And, more importantly, it highlights the unmistakable way in which his work was not only an art but a mode of existence.

A visionary, a great shaman—le grand chaman de Roumanie, as a French critic once called him—whose poems have always worked as Pythic oracles, Naum was also an incredibly shrewd and inclusive craftsman. The very personable and humorously playful person that he was in everyday life was the same as the artist who integrated biographical details, political critique, and popular culture (along with erudite and alchemically-oneiric intertexts) into his mesmerizing rhythms, expansive diction, and enthralling imagery. Although—or rather particularly because—he was a true poeta vates, a poet-prophet, he did not look down on the trivialities of common existence. His corrosive ironies never settled upon postmodern detachment, and, instead of rendering the verse flat, his absorption of the ‘insignificant’ actually turned the everyday into something magical, miraculous, and overwhelming.

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Translation Tuesday: Poems by Felix Nicolau

"had no idea literature is about what you drink / with whom and where when I found that out I was already too old"

rhumba

the tapping july hail

puts me in mind

of how this salsa dancer used

to break my windows twice a month

with the stiletto flipped off her lil left foot

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Translation Tuesday: Poems by Andra Rotaru

Searing poems by Romanian poet Andra Rotaru, translated by Florin Bican

36 days

 

less than 36 days since we haven’t talked to each other.

by less

than 360 degrees can the body rotate still.

and, there –

when we no longer know.

 

I had before my eyes the heavy skin.

it had uncovered itself thoroughly,

like some sort of shock-proof wood.

it had developed a sheen and enamel.

it had sunk deep into the earth

 

since the earth patch I’m standing on

has the hue of a man’s flesh

since my skin’s ever whiter

 

do not wake up. a man’s body is attaining perfection.

green wood turns to black wood,

the texture gets rougher.

 

I’d stir my hands and they’d uncover themselves

I’d press them till neither the blood nor the lymph.

 

then, after a lengthy detour from my own body,

they’d fill up my tissues, they’d pile up,

no induration, nor rubber wood,

but soft wood we can keep banging on.

 

you tell me take care what you dream.

since the earth patch I am standing on

has the hue of a man’s flesh

since my skin’s ever whiter.

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Sean Cotter answers our Proust Questionnaire

"Translators should pay better attention than any other reader, and the translator should be at least as creative as the original author."

What is your favorite word in any language? Which word do you find most difficult to translate?

mda.

I don’t translate words, but works, authors, “the whole surround.”

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