Having a lot of snow this winter (really upsetting for many Romanians), I've almost forgotten how beautiful spring can be. Seeing everywhere spring blossoms leads again my mind to poetry. And speaking about this, I noticed that "Nichita Stanescu Festival" started on March 29th, for the twenty-fourth time in Ploiesti, Prahova county.
There are a lot of attractions to choose from: painting workshops, graphic expositions, book launching ceremonies; music and poetry recitals at the "Nichita Stanescu Memorial House" / Casa Memoriala Nichita Stanescu", ”Paul Constantinescu” Museum and ”Ion Ionescu Quintus” Art Museum.
" Nichita Stanescu Park" is hosting again a "Book Fair" organized by Princeps Publishing House / Targ de Carte organizat de Editura Princeps.
|Nichita Stanescu Statue - Ploiesti, Prahova County|
For those who are fortunate to be in Ploiesti those days, the complet program of the event (March 29th - 31th, 2012) may be read on the PHOnline website: " Festivalul de poezie Nichita Stanescu - programul complet ".
|Caraiman Mountain, Prahova, Romania|
Nichita Stanescu (March 31, 1933-December 13, 1983) remains over the years one of the greatest Romanian poets and essayists. I've fallen in love for Nichita Stanescu's abstract poems long time ago and I'm really sorry I cannot attend this event. About his opera I wrote more in one of my previous posts, where I translated also another poem dear to my heart : The Unwords / Necuvintele . This year, my humble homage for his opera is just the translation of " Vitraliu / Stained Glass" poem.
Your shadow, smashing into walls
Is breaking again into colored shards of glass.
Oh, this is why you’ve seen me in the street
picking up its lost squared pieces.
To make it again, in the night time,
I'll lay them solicitous over your windows
green, dark-blue, yellow and reddish,
with a crest put on top of its helmet.
When you will awake, glued to the windows,
harlequins of stained glass
will let through them to fall into your arms
the Sun, always half-shinning.
|Valea Vaserului, Viseu, Romania|
Umbra ta, lovindu-se de ziduri,
iar se sparge-n cioburi colorate.
Oh, de-aceea m-ai zarit in strada
adunand pierdutele-i patrate.
Si sa o fac la loc, in ceasul noptii,
peste geamuri ti le-asez cu grija,
verzi, albastre, galbene si rosii,
incoifate-n crestet cu o sprija.
Cand te vei trezi, lipiti de geamuri,
arlechini din sticle colorate
vor lasa prin ei sa-ti cada-n brate
soarele, mereu la jumatate.