vineri, 8 iunie 2012

Jorge Luis Borges

 


PLOAIA

Brusc, seara străvezie s-a făcut,
Fiindcă ploaia cade, cade-ntruna.
E mult de cînd tot cade. Ploaia-i una
Din formele cu-obîrşie-n trecut.

Cînd o auzi căzînd, te simţi cuprins
De-o-nfiorare. Soarta norocoasă
O floare rară ţi-a adus în casă,
Un trandafir bătut ; e roşu-aprins.

Această ploaie ce orbeşte geamul
Aduce bucurie-n mahalale.
Viţa-de-vie onviorează, ramul

Îl înverzeşte. Jilava-nserare
Mi-aduce glasul molcom, mult dorit
Al tatei ce se-ntoarce. N-a murit.


THE RAIN

Suddenly, the evening has got transparency,
Because the rain is falling, is continuously falling.
Since so much time it falls. The rain is one
Of those forms coming from the past.

When you hear it falling, you feel comprised
By a thrill. The lucky fate
A rare flower has brought in your house,
A thick rose ; it is bright red.

This rain which is blinding the window
Brings joy in the neighbourhood.
The grape-vine is refreshing. The branch

Makes green.The damp evening
Brings to me the gentle voice, so much desired
Of my father who is coming. He has not died.


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