Intalniri neasteptate cu Romani - Lucian Blaga

Suflete, prund de pacate,
esti nimic si esti de toate.
Roata stelelor e-n tine
si o lume de jivine.
Esti nimic si esti de toate:
aer, pasari calatoare,
fum si vatra, vremi trecute
si pamanturi viitoare.
Drumul tau nu e-n afara
Caile-s in tine insuti.
Iata cerul tau se naste
ca o lacrima din plansu-ti.

(Lucian Blaga)

Am citit poezia aceasta cu multi ani in urma. Am regasit-o azi pe web, pe site-ul Agonia, inscrisa de catre doamna Raluca Valentina Petcu.

Am gasit apoi pe alt site un alt poem blagian, Psalm:

O durere totdeauna mi-a fost singuratatea ta ascunsa,
Dumnezeule, dar ce era sa fac?
Cand eram copil ma jucam cu tine
si-n inchipuire te desfaceam cum desfaci o jucarie.
Apoi salbaticia mi-a crescut,
cantarile mi-au pierit,
si fara sa-mi fi fost vreodata aproape
te-am pierdut pentru totdeauna
in tarana, in foc, in vazduh si pe ape.

Intre rasaritul de soare si-apusul de soare
sunt numai tina si rana.
In cer te-ai inchis ca-ntr-un cosciug.
O, de n-ai fi mai inrudit cu moartea
decat cu viata,
mi-ai vorbi. De-acolo unde esti,
din pamant ori din poveste mi-ai vorbi.

Iata-l si talmacit in engleza, de catre doamna Liliana Mihalachi:

Always grief to me have been your concealed solitude
But God, what was I to do?
I played with you as a child and
Let imagination take you to pieces like a toy.
Then the untamed grew stronger within,
my songs died away,
and without ever having felt you close
I lost you for ever
in dust, in fire, in air, and on waters.

From sunrise to sunset
I am all clay and suffering.
You have confined yourself in the sky as in a coffin.
Oh, weren't you a closer kin to death
than you are to life,
you would speak to me. Right from where you are,
within the earth or within the tale- you would speak to me.

Show yourself among the thorns here, God,
so that I should know what you want of me.
Shall I catch in the air the poisoned spear
thrown by the other from the depths to wound you beneath your wings?
Or there is nothing that you want of me?
You are the mute, still identity
(a round itself is a),
and you ask for nothing. Not even for my prayers.

Look, the stars are coming into the world
along with my questioning sorrows.
Look, it is night with no windows outside.
What am I going to do from now on, God?
In you I take off my mortal flesh. I take it off
as if it were a coat left on the way.

(Intalniri neasteptate cu Romani)