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CÄutasem mai demult s-aleg neghina dintr-un grÃĸu, dar nu Čtiam pe-atunci cÄ talerul e-atÃĸt de vechi Či ÃŽndeosebi de mare,
Bobul mÄrunt e primul pe care-l macinÄ neghina, ÃŽnsÄ nici fierul nu va fi ferit de-a sa ruginÄ oricÃĸt s-ar crede cÄ ar fi de tare,Â
ViaČa se-aratÄ ca o epopee de la pÄmÃĸnt pÃĸnÄ la cer, ÃŽn care istoricul se-mparte ÃŽntre buni Či rÄi; adunÄturÄ ca ÃŽn âMizerabiliiâ, o luptÄ sufleteascÄ ÃŽntre baricade,
Či-atunci cÃĸnd conČtiinČa este revoltatÄ nu mai gÄsim refugiul ÃŽn muntele de-odinioarÄ Aventin, Či tot sperÄm sÄ devenim ÃŽnvingÄtori âper aspera ad astraâ ÃŽnaintÃĸnd de dupÄ porČile destul de aspru ferecate.
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Iubite, Či-aduci aminte cÃĸnd mi-ai spus, sÄ-Či dau inelul de pe deget Či tu-l vei da la schimb pe-al tÄu?Â
N-am acceptat sÄ mÄ despart de-al meu inel, Či-acum gÄsesc pe inelar, strÄlucitorul aur alÄturi de argint: inelul tÄu â inelul meu.Â
Čtiu ce-ai sÄ crezi, cÄ ÃŽmi doresc ÃŽndeosebi inelul Či astfel voi avea Či talerul, greČit, e vÃĸrful muntelui unde aČ vrea sÄ mÄ opresc privind cÄtre ceresc,Â
Inelele am sÄ le-arunc ÃŽn mare, iar marea-n care sunt pierdute, mi-am pus ÃŽn gÃĸnd s-o cuceresc Či s-o ofer mireasÄ unui pÄmÃĸntesc.Â
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Tu ai avea curaj sÄ mergi la cÄrturar Či sÄ-i transmiČi cÄ ÃŽn curÃĸnd nu va avea nevoie de caiet sau de stilou?Â
I-ai spune pictorului cÄ uneori ÃŽn faČa unui fabulos tablou existÄ unele dizarmonii pe o cromaticÄ ÃŽn care se include indigo?Â
Vezi, multe Či-ncurate sunt cÄile ce duc mereu cÄtre acelaČi orizont spre care tot urcÄm pe-un munte neČtiut acoperit de brazi,Â
Timpul se scurge printre degete, iar eu te chem pentru a-Či fi vioara Či tu sÄ-mi fi arcuČul din cÃĸntecul nocturn al unor greieraČi.
I once sought to separate the chaff from the wheat, but little did I know the tray was so old and grand indeed,Â
The smallest grain is the first the chaff will rotten and defeat, yet even iron succumbs to rustâs invasive breed, though itâs believed to be of unyielding creed.
Life unfolds like an epic from earth to sky, where history is divided between good and evil; mixed crowd akin to “Les MisÊrables,” a struggle of souls, ‘midst barricades so might,Â
And when conscience revolts, no refuge in Aventine Mountain we find, still hoping to triumph “per aspera ad astra” we vie pushing forward past gates sternly locked and trying to overcome the plight.
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Beloved, do you remember when you asked me for the ring upon my hand, and in return, you’d give me yours to hold?Â
I refused to part with my ring, and now I find on my finger, shining gold beside the silver band: your ring â my ring, behold.Â
You might think I crave the ring and thus the tray I will gain, but you’re mistaken, it’s the mountain peak where I wish to remain, gazing at the sky untold.Â
The rings I’ll cast into the sea, and the sea where they are lost, I plan to conquer and bestow as a bride to an earthly fold.
Would you have the courage to go to the scholar and tell him that soon he will not need notebook or pen at all?Â
Would you tell the painter that sometimes in front of a fabulous canvas, there are some disharmonies within a palette that includes indigo’s thrall?Â
You see, many and winding are the paths that always lead to the same horizon, toward which we climb an unknown mountain covered with firs, tall.Â
Time slips through our fingers, and I call you to be your violin while you become my bow in the nocturnal song of crickets, small.
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* Translated from Romanian into English by Adriana CrÄciun
Notes: Per aspera ad astra = pe cÄi aspre cÄtre stele / through hardships to the stars.