unicorn

Ştiaţi că C. S. Lewis a scris şi poezie la viaţa lui? Atât înainte de convertire, cât şi după. Sora mea cea mai mică îmi trimite această splendidă poezie pe care a găsit-o într-o antologie.

Pentru cei care ar putea avea dificultăţi de interpretare, o cheiţă: unicornul este singurul animal fabulos nezămislit de frica omenească. Potrivit imaginarului medieval unicornul este un animal solitar, bun, pur şi de o mare frumuseţe. Numai că puţini pot să-l admire, fiindcă este greu de prins. Totuşi, el poate fi îmblânzit de o fecioară. La vederea ei, unicornul se apropie, îşi pune capul în poala ei şi adoarme. Acestea şi alte caracteristici au făcut ca unicornul să fie folosit ca simbol al lui Hristos (care se întrupează  prin Sfânta Fecioară). Lewis se foloseşte de acest simbolism pentru a scrie o poezie care mie mi se pare foarte reuşită.

THE LATE PASSENGER

The sky was low, the sounding rain was falling dense and dark,

And Noah’s sons were standing at the window of the Ark.

The beasts were in, but Japhet said, ‘I see one creature more

Belated and unmated there come knocking at the door.’

‘Well let him knock,’ said Ham, ‘Or let him drown or learn to swim.

We’re overcrowded as it is; we’ve got no room for him.’

‘And yet it knocks, how terribly it knocks,’ said Shem, ‘Its feet

Are hard as horn – but oh the air that comes from it is sweet.’

‘Now hush,’ said Ham, ‘You’ll waken Dad, and once he comes to see

What’s at the door, it’s sure to mean more work for you and me.’

Noah’s voice came roaring from the darkness down below,

‘Some animal is knocking. Take it in before we go.’

Ham shouted back, and savagely he nudged the other two,

‘That’s only Japhet knocking down a brad-nail in his shoe.’

Said Noah, ‘Boys, I hear a noise that’s like a horse’s hoof.’

Said Ham, ‘Why, that’s the dreadful rain that drums upon the roof’

Noah tumbled up on deck and out he put his head;

His face went grey, his knees were loosed, he tore his beard and said,

‘Look, look! It would not wait. It turns away. It takes its Right.

Fine work you’ve made of it, my sons, between you all to-night!

‘Even if I could outrun it now, it would not turn again

- Not now. Our great discourtesy has earned its high disdain.

‘Oh noble and unmated beast, my sons were all unkind;

In such a night what stable and what manger will you find?

‘Oh golden hoofs, oh cataracts of mane, oh nostrils wide

With indignation! Oh the neck wave-arched, the lovely pride!

‘Oh long shall be the furrows ploughed across the hearts of men

Before it comes to stable and to manger once again,

‘And dark and crooked all the ways in which our race shall walk,

And shrivelled all their manhood like a flower with broken stalk,

‘And all the world, oh Ham, may curse the hour when you were born;

Because of you the Ark must sail without the Unicorn.’

P.S.

Dacă mai aveam nevoie să mă conving că nu sunt un traducător talentat pentru poezie, mi-am încercat dinţii pe primele trei distihuri. Ceva-ceva a ieşit. Nu mare scofală. Voilà

Călătorul întârziat

Un cer de plumb; ploua turbat, cu picuri mari şi grei.

Sus, la fereastră, ai lui Noe fii veghează câteşitrei.

Jivinele-au intrat! Ce văd? sări Iafet vioi.

La uşă cine bate oare, vrând să-l luăm cu noi?

Să scape singur, de-o putea, prinse a râde Ham.

Suntem prea mulţi, loc nu mai e! De ce atât tam-tam?

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