May 8, 2010
Angel and demon (Inger si demon) by Mihai Eminescu
0 comentarii Publicat de Pure Wish la 5/08/2010 12:36:00 AMNight in the sad Dome, through yellow lights
Of the wax candles which burn near the shrines-
While the sky at Dome's end stays dark and big,
Impenetrable by the red eyes of tired wicks,
In the empty church, near the curved wall,
On her knees is sitting on the stairs a girl like an angel;
On the shrine's icon in red broken lights,
Pale and sad the Virgin can be seen.
A flame is stuck in a gray stoned pillar;
Shiny drops of tar fall on the ground sizzling
And crowns of dried flowers are hissing
And the girl's pray is mysteriously whispering.
Deep in the darkness, near an inert cross,
In a thick black shadow, like a demon He is watching,
The elbows on the cross's arms he relaxes and sets,
The eyes buried in his head, his forehead sad and dimpled.
And his chin is pressing against the stone's cold shoulder,
His black hair like the night over the marble's white arm;
Only the sad candle with her pink-white reflection
Gently throws a glint of light which passes over his face.
She an angel who is praying- Him a demon who is dreaming;
She a golden heart- Him an aposted soul;
Him in his deadly shadow, is sitting leaned back-
At Madonna's feet, sad, saint, She is watching.
On a high and cold wall like a clean marble,
White like winter's snow, shiny like the gentle water,
Is reflecting like in a mirror the girl's full shadow-
Her shadow, which is praying on it's knees like her.
What you need, blond child with your nobleness,
With white marble face and wax hands,
Veil- a transparent mist chewed into the stars; clear
Is your innocent look under your eyelashes' shadow;
What you need to be an angel- long and constellated wings.
But what I see: What is spreading from your shoulders' shadow?
Two shadows of wings which are moving shivering,
Two shadows of wings rising to the sky.
Oh, that's not her shadow- it's her guardian angel;
Near the white marble I see it's flying creature.
Over her innocent life, his endless one,
Near her he is praying, near her he kneels down.
But if that is her shadow- then She is an angel,
But her white wings can't be seen by the world;
Sanctified walls by the world's long prayers
See her transparent wings and spread the word about them.
I love you!- the demon was about to shout in his night,
But the winged shadow softens his lips;
Not for love, for praying he bends his knees
And listens carried from this world her sweet and shy whispers.
....................................................................................
Her?- A king's daughter, blond with a tiara of stars,
Passes through the world happy, angel, queen and woman;
He puts through the nations the destruction's spark
And in deserted hearts he sows rebel thoughts.
Separated by life's waves, between him and her
Centuries are of thinking, a history, -a nation,
Sometimes- although rarely- they meet, and their eyes
Stare, as if they're absorbed in their burning wish.
Her big blue eyes, sweet of kindness and soft,
How deep penetrate into his black gusty eyes!
And on his skinny face a red cloud passes slowly-
They love each other... And they're so far apart!
A pale king came, and his ancient crown,
Heavy of glories and power, he would have put it in her lap,
If she put her foot on the throne's carpet
And in his sceptered hand, her thin, small hand.
But no- dumb remained her hardly opened lips,
Dumb the heart in her chest, her hand pulled back.
In the soul's mystery, she lobed. Clearly and slowly
She was seeing the demon in her young dreams.
She was seeing him moving the people with cold, daring ideas;
He's so powerful- she thought, with a lovely sweet fright;
He stirs the present with his thoughts' fame
Against everything that long centuries and great foreheads gathered.
He often climbed on a rock wraps himself in anger
In the red flag and his harsh, deep, dimpled forehead,
Looked like a black night covered with storms
His eyes were fulminating and his word awakening the vile fury.
........................................................................................................
On a poor bed is sweating in a long agony
The young man. A lamp is stretching her miser and sleazy tongue,
Sizzling in sick air.- No one knows about him,
No one softens his fate, no one caresses his forehead.
Oh! all those thoughts headed against the world,
Against the written rules, against the ordinary
With God's approval- today everything's arranged
Against the dying heart, they want to strangle the soul!
Dying without hope! Who knows the sadness
Hidden in these words?- To feel trapped, small,
To see that the great aspirations are reduced to nothing,
That in the world evil is ruling and you can't oppose,
Because opposing, you are wasting your life-
And when you die you see that you lived for nothing.
A death like this is the hell. Other tears, other sadness
Crueler is not possible. You feel that you are nothing.
And those dark thoughts won't let him die.
How did he enter life? How much love of right and good,
How much sincere brotherhood he had brought with him!
And the reward?- Sadness, which is oppressing his soul.
But through the dark mist, which is covering the eyes,
The tall shadow of an angel is getting closer shining,
It smoothly sits on his bed; his blinded by tears eyes
She kisses. The mist disappears from them...
It's Her. With a deep, never felt before satisfaction,
He looks in her eyes.- She's proud of compassion;
She's reconciliating in his last hour his whole painful life;
Oh! he's whispering while dying- you're who I'm guessing, my love.
I followed this earth, this weather, life, people
With my rebel thoughts against the open sky;
He didn't want to condemn the demon, but he sent
An angel to conciliate me, and the conciliation is... love.
Of the wax candles which burn near the shrines-
While the sky at Dome's end stays dark and big,
Impenetrable by the red eyes of tired wicks,
In the empty church, near the curved wall,
On her knees is sitting on the stairs a girl like an angel;
On the shrine's icon in red broken lights,
Pale and sad the Virgin can be seen.
A flame is stuck in a gray stoned pillar;
Shiny drops of tar fall on the ground sizzling
And crowns of dried flowers are hissing
And the girl's pray is mysteriously whispering.
Deep in the darkness, near an inert cross,
In a thick black shadow, like a demon He is watching,
The elbows on the cross's arms he relaxes and sets,
The eyes buried in his head, his forehead sad and dimpled.
And his chin is pressing against the stone's cold shoulder,
His black hair like the night over the marble's white arm;
Only the sad candle with her pink-white reflection
Gently throws a glint of light which passes over his face.
She an angel who is praying- Him a demon who is dreaming;
She a golden heart- Him an aposted soul;
Him in his deadly shadow, is sitting leaned back-
At Madonna's feet, sad, saint, She is watching.
On a high and cold wall like a clean marble,
White like winter's snow, shiny like the gentle water,
Is reflecting like in a mirror the girl's full shadow-
Her shadow, which is praying on it's knees like her.
What you need, blond child with your nobleness,
With white marble face and wax hands,
Veil- a transparent mist chewed into the stars; clear
Is your innocent look under your eyelashes' shadow;
What you need to be an angel- long and constellated wings.
But what I see: What is spreading from your shoulders' shadow?
Two shadows of wings which are moving shivering,
Two shadows of wings rising to the sky.
Oh, that's not her shadow- it's her guardian angel;
Near the white marble I see it's flying creature.
Over her innocent life, his endless one,
Near her he is praying, near her he kneels down.
But if that is her shadow- then She is an angel,
But her white wings can't be seen by the world;
Sanctified walls by the world's long prayers
See her transparent wings and spread the word about them.
I love you!- the demon was about to shout in his night,
But the winged shadow softens his lips;
Not for love, for praying he bends his knees
And listens carried from this world her sweet and shy whispers.
....................................................................................
Her?- A king's daughter, blond with a tiara of stars,
Passes through the world happy, angel, queen and woman;
He puts through the nations the destruction's spark
And in deserted hearts he sows rebel thoughts.
Separated by life's waves, between him and her
Centuries are of thinking, a history, -a nation,
Sometimes- although rarely- they meet, and their eyes
Stare, as if they're absorbed in their burning wish.
Her big blue eyes, sweet of kindness and soft,
How deep penetrate into his black gusty eyes!
And on his skinny face a red cloud passes slowly-
They love each other... And they're so far apart!
A pale king came, and his ancient crown,
Heavy of glories and power, he would have put it in her lap,
If she put her foot on the throne's carpet
And in his sceptered hand, her thin, small hand.
But no- dumb remained her hardly opened lips,
Dumb the heart in her chest, her hand pulled back.
In the soul's mystery, she lobed. Clearly and slowly
She was seeing the demon in her young dreams.
She was seeing him moving the people with cold, daring ideas;
He's so powerful- she thought, with a lovely sweet fright;
He stirs the present with his thoughts' fame
Against everything that long centuries and great foreheads gathered.
He often climbed on a rock wraps himself in anger
In the red flag and his harsh, deep, dimpled forehead,
Looked like a black night covered with storms
His eyes were fulminating and his word awakening the vile fury.
........................................................................................................
On a poor bed is sweating in a long agony
The young man. A lamp is stretching her miser and sleazy tongue,
Sizzling in sick air.- No one knows about him,
No one softens his fate, no one caresses his forehead.
Oh! all those thoughts headed against the world,
Against the written rules, against the ordinary
With God's approval- today everything's arranged
Against the dying heart, they want to strangle the soul!
Dying without hope! Who knows the sadness
Hidden in these words?- To feel trapped, small,
To see that the great aspirations are reduced to nothing,
That in the world evil is ruling and you can't oppose,
Because opposing, you are wasting your life-
And when you die you see that you lived for nothing.
A death like this is the hell. Other tears, other sadness
Crueler is not possible. You feel that you are nothing.
And those dark thoughts won't let him die.
How did he enter life? How much love of right and good,
How much sincere brotherhood he had brought with him!
And the reward?- Sadness, which is oppressing his soul.
But through the dark mist, which is covering the eyes,
The tall shadow of an angel is getting closer shining,
It smoothly sits on his bed; his blinded by tears eyes
She kisses. The mist disappears from them...
It's Her. With a deep, never felt before satisfaction,
He looks in her eyes.- She's proud of compassion;
She's reconciliating in his last hour his whole painful life;
Oh! he's whispering while dying- you're who I'm guessing, my love.
I followed this earth, this weather, life, people
With my rebel thoughts against the open sky;
He didn't want to condemn the demon, but he sent
An angel to conciliate me, and the conciliation is... love.
broken roses
;;
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