#translation: Romanian

[poems-from-around-the-world]

Against War - Adrian Păunescu - Romania

Translator: Daniel Ioniță (Romanian)

Civilian things are few, there’s no reprieve These rainy times with soldiers beating drums We don’t have days, just military leave, And babies jump saluting from their mums. The clocks resound like soldiers’ boots this morning They screech on jilted, barren sand which stings For thirty wars start monthly without warning And all are carrying death within their wings. And even death has lost its charm and poise These rainy times of drills and conscript days Near budding linden trees the arms make noise While stars are gunning us with death-filled rays. It’s easy to acknowledge, though it rankles, For like a yoke you feel it on the way, The fact that from one’s conscience to one’s ankles A man is just a uniform today. Civilian things are scarce and hard to tell For even heartaches lack civilian beat And stern recruitment seems to augur well For sheepish tame civilians in defeat But troopers simile! It’s resurrection mass, When babies jump saluting from their mums As per the statute to salute their brass In rainy times with soldiers beating drums.

[zarzava]

three romanian authors to read with ur dracula daily

dracula is an orientalist text conceived at the height of british empire, grounded in distortions of a region that stoker never visited. sadly (and unsurprisingly) i found very few romanian authors who have been translated into english online, so here’s a meagre list of recs:

1. luminița cioabă

romanian roma author, famous in romania as the daughter of bulibasha (the king of the roma nation), she forged her own path as a writer of short stories in the oral roma tradition which portray in vivid detail the history of the roma people of romania 

the birch grove

queen of the night and stone flower 

meralda

from her book, the lost country 

2. marin sorescu

from humble rural romanian roots, he wrote under the oppressive ceausescu government. in a national ironic tradition he very famously said: "Just as I can't give up smoking because I don't smoke, I can't give up writing because I have no talent." some of my favorite poems:

the sea shell (1983)

carbon paper (1980)

creation (1992)

3. paul celan

jewish poet from bucovina. i recommend this beautiful essay by ilya kaminsky, who like celan was forced to flee eastern europe due to antisemitism, deconstructing various translators’ attempts to adapt celan’s texts and experience of the holocaust. these are all poems from a 1971 poetry collection

all souls

leap-centuries 

language mesh and night

homecoming

[reds-skull]

TW FLASHING LIGHTS/EYE STRAIN (GIF)

[if enough people request I'll post a version without the gif]

PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6

Putting my very limited animation skills to use with this gif. If I had the time and motivation, I would've made this entire comic animated, but I don't, so I didn't.

Things are heating up! Hope you like action because there's gonna be more of it in the next part...

[shrews-art]

Soooo I have this college AU in the making if anyone is interested?

[thebluesthour]

Below, on the guesthouse terrace, chairs and shawls and white dresses can be seen. And beyond, the idyllic, clear, blue lake. A postcard.

Mihail Sebastian, Women (trans. Phillip Ó Ceallaigh)

[appointmentwithmryeats]

Ana Blandiana

[wheresjonno]

Maybe if he knew about the Demeter he'd wish to be there to let them know that the crew isn't just disappearing out of thin air, and to unseal the coffins and grab every shovel avail.

Jonathan: *crab-climbing out of the sea* Entshuldigung, ich heisse -

Captain: kakogo khrena

Jonathan: Es tut mir leid, aber es gibt ein, wie sagt man... ordog? No that's not it dammit. Vrolok. Es gibt ein grosses vrolok ins schiff.

First Mate: Ți-am spus la naiba!!

Captain: ...English?

Jonathan: oh my god, yes, thank you, English! I represent Herr Leutner of Varna, I'm here to do an emergency dirt inspection on your cargo

Captain: We do inspection already. Pay baksheesh.

Captain: how you come to my ship? You take my men?

First Mate: vezi ce crede despre chotki-ul tău

Jonathan: nonono, I'm just a humble solicitor. But I really do need to see inside those boxes right now. *glanced at horizon* Before the sun goes down if you please

Captain and First Mate: *significant glance*

~later~

*sounds of box lid being pried open*

Dracula: *looking up at one very angry solicitor* Ah lads not again...

[kcciny]

This is what the Master wakes up to every morning

[executorscloak]

Fanmade Pathologic remake???

Well,,, not really remake but a new interpretation?? I found out a few things about IPL and i really REALLY think a free recreation would be useful for people who don't wanna pay! i'll do as much as i can without asking for any money! though please don't expect it to actually happen... I don't know if i even legally CAN make my own pathologic interpretation but,,,,

[beljar]

To get up in the morning, wash and then wait for some unforeseen variety of dread or depression. I would give the whole universe and all of Shakespeare for a grain of ataraxy.

Emil Cioran, The Trouble with Being Born, 1973

[poems-from-around-the-world]

Little Things - Anastasia Gavrilovici - Romania

Translators: Cătălina Stanislav and Vlad Pojoga (Romanian)

Maybe people really do give their best shot

when they’re crushed, just like olives.

Or maybe not, what do I know, my mind is a piece of Swiss cheese

through which you can hear the music of lab rats.

I’m not allergic to anything and, still, I suffer for everything, it’s enough to tell me

that you don’t like marzipan and I’ll break into tears. Human warmth chaotically

emanated, mental contents discharged randomly, morning anger (sleeplessness

and weariness) projected onto your loved ones like an airplane

emptying its debris over a cruise ship. It’s alright, you look at the

glass of beer, you can almost see its full half, if not for the

set of prints that will be reproduced, with a bit of luck,

in the next 10 years by cyborg masters. There are little things around us that

turn my heart into an origami. Emotional anarchy, indistinguishable earthquakes, the beauty of nature

falling apart on its own, cities in which you circulate harder than

through my blood and all this air I never knew

how to correctly make use of. It’s late, the children are waiting for you at home, better not

mind me. We are 80% “me and my shit”, the rest

water and calcium. Look, these constellations seem like the quirk of a contemporary

artist, but are not worth more than the delicate skeleton of a humming

bird. There’s no one left in the control tower, the photographer who had

Parkinson’s almost clicked the button, the olives are ripe, this might be

the end. If only it were to stop here.

[kd-heart]

The translator saw the opportunity and ran with it >:)

[luceafarul-de-dimineata]

În Teambuilding

Marbas holding a card that says Jesus: A murit pentru pacatele noastre

Buer: Vadim. Vadim Tudor. Corneliu Vadim Tudor!

[goldenpinof]

hi!!! just got to talk to my dad about the books of you were still were curious about it :) he confirmed they usually send him 5-20 books when a book comes out plus one or two for reprintings (depends on the publishers) and i guess that goes for translations too!

btw the spanish cover for dans book physically hurt me because they separated a single word in two lines without hypen or anything!!! i get its to keep the desing even but ahhggg as a graphic designer and spanish speaker hurts sorry for the ramble haha!!!

omgggggg, your pain is so valid! i would be pissed if they did the same with my language as well. they could literally just make the text smaller, right? anyway.

thank you so much for sharing 🙌 i want them to show us all the copies they have, including tabinof and dapgo, lol

[mihai-florescu]

From within the Pacific Ocean a small fish emerged, and upon its tail was written, you have been eliminated

[mustfindcreativeusername]

Did you ever want to read To His Coy Mistress but in romanian? Well now you can!

Here's the original: x

And here's my translation:

Amantei sale pudice

De timpul tot și lumea am avea,

Pudoarea ta, domniță, n-ar fi rea.

Am sta și ne-am gândi unde să mergem

Ziua iubirii noastre lungă s-o petrecem.

Tu lângă râul Indiei, Gange, ai găsi

Rubine, iară eu m-aș tângui

Odată cu mareea Humber-ului.

Cu zece ani înaintea potopului,

Eu te-aș iubi, și tu, de vrei, m-ai refuza

Până religia lor evreii și-ar schimba.

Iubirea mea legumă ar sta să crească

Încetișor ca un imperiu, și măreață;

Aș sta un secol să îți preamăresc

Și ochii tăi, și fruntea să-ți privesc;

Și două veacuri să admir un sân

Treizeci de mii de ani cu ce rămân;

Măcar o eră pentru fiecare parte,

Iar inima-ți în cea din urmă să se-arate.

Căci meriți asta, doamnă, pe deplin,

Iar eu nu mă voi mulțumi cu mai puțin.

Dar tot mereu aud din spate

A timpului trasură-naripată;

Și colo-n fața noastră se întinde

Deșertul veșniciei nesfârșite.

Acolo frumusețea ta nu va mai fi;

Din cripta ta de marmură n-oi auzi

Ecoul cântecului meu; virginitatea ta prea protejată

Va fi atunci numai de viermi gustată

Bizara-ți cinste-n praf se va preface

Și pofta mea în scrum va zace;

Mormântul e un loc plăcut, privat,

Dar cine acolo stă îmbrățișat?

Deci cât culoarea tinereții

Îți stă pe trup ca roua dimineții,

Cât al tău suflet doritor

Transpiră foc prin fiecare por,

Haide la trântă, cât suntem în stare,

Ca amoroase păsări răpitoare,

Să devorăm, mai bine, tot timpul deodată

Decât să lâncezim în gura lui căscată.

Să ne-adunăm dulceața și puterea

Într-o minge, și să sfâșiem plăcerea

Cu vrajbă brută, până într-o zi

La ale vieții porți de fier ne vom găsi:

Atunci, deși oprit nu merge,

Măcar ne-am pune soarele s-alerge.