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Poveste sentimentala Pe urm ne vedeam din ce n ce mai des. Eu stteam la o margine-a orei, tu - la cealalt, ca dou toarte de amfor.

Numai cuvintele zburau intre noi, nainte i napoi. Vrtejul lor putea fi aproape zrit, i deodat, mi lsam un genunchi, iar cotul mi-infigeam n pmnt, numai ca s privesc iarba-nclinat de caderea vreunui cuvnt, ca pe sub laba unui leu alergnd. Cuvintele se roteau, se roteau ntre noi, nainte i napoi, i cu ct te iubeam mai mult, cu att repetau, ntr-un vrtej aproape vzut, structura materiei, de la-nceput. Necuvintele

Sentimental story Then we saw each other more often. I stood at one side of the hour, you at the other, like two handles of an amphora. Only the words flew between us, back and forth. You could almost see their swirl, and suddenly, I would lower a knee, and sunk my elbow in the ground only to look at the grass, bent by the falling of some word, as though by the paw of a lion in chase The words spun, spun between us, back and forth, and the more I loved you, the more they continued, this whirl almost seen, the structure of matter, from the beginnings of things. Unwords He offered me a leaf like a hand with fingers. I offered him a hand like a leaf with teeth. He offered me a branch like an arm. I offered him my arm like a branch. He leaned his trunk towards me like an apple I leaned my shoulder to him like a knotted trunk. I could hear his sap quicken, beating like blood. He could hear my blood slacken like rising sap. I passed through him. He passed through me. I remained a solitary tree. He a solitary man.

El a ntins spre mine o frunz ca o mn cu degete. Eu am ntins spre el o mn ca o frunz cu dini. El a ntins spre mine o ramur ca un bra. Eu am ntins spre el braul ca o ramur. El i-a nclinat spre mine trunchiul ca un mr. Eu am inclinat spre el umrul ca un trunchi noduros. Auzeam cum se-netete seva lui btnd ca sngele. Auzea cum se ncetinete sngele meu suind ca seva. Eu am trecut prin el. El a trecut prin mine. Eu am rmas un pom singur. El un om singur.

The most difficult choices I had to make in translating Nichita Stanescu involved finding the adequate words in order to create that fragile balance represented by maintaining the meaning of the original text within the poetics of the target language in which the text was translated. In the case of a Sentimental story which in my opinion was a poem about intimacy I tried to use a vocabulary that indicated some type of emotional involvement that is why I hesitated but finally chose we saw each other for ne vedeam instead of the more formal met. I preferred lion in chase to lion in flight for leu alergand, because this movement seems more adequate for this kind of predator. I had a hard time in finding the adequate expression for de la inceput and finally I came to peace with myself and decided to translate it as from the beginnings of things, believing that the poem reiterates that original couple Adam and Eve, the traditional love story between a man and a women, that starts timidly, then catches you in a swirl, a swirl of words and feelings. The poem the Unwords presents the transformation of language which follows different registers, live energy representing the communication code. The passage from one register of the language to another was extremely challenging and the result I would like to think that maintained the symmetry of the original text. Although the syntax is rather simple, at the level of the poetic expression the poetry of Nichita Stanescu is a web of knots and signs. The sign is the conventional meaning of the word and the knot is the semantic nucleus of the poetic word. Nechitas poetry presents a semantic lyricism by cultivating existential symbols. He creates shifts of meaning using syntactical creations apparently absurd by changing the grammatical value of the words. The poet had the vocation to penetrate the impenetrable to imagine indefinable realities. That is why we find the words with the non/un prefix, which represent simultaneously an affirmation and a negation. By translating these poems you might discover that they oscillate between yes and no between light and darkness between illusion and reality. The value of his work resides in his original poetic vision and in his poetical language. The word becomes independent; it becomes the maker of the world.