Verses by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Julia Kalman
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In these days when the heart expires,
When selfishness in the air spreads like fires,
When the flowers of sentiment are cut,
And the good life is the aim we strut,
When all that’s noble leaves us cold and mute,
When even the fallen lift their heads to salute,
Why not fall asleep unexpectedly,
And wake up a century younger, fancy-free,
To charm back life and light with glee,
Stepping into a new century, full of glee!
I don’t weep for a fate that relentlessly trails,
For a heart that once feels inevitably fails!
Since Fate’s ink quill first penned my name,
To roam this world like an outlaw, my claim.
But I weep for not seeing the heaven that reflects,
Through humanity’s eyes, to hearts it directs!
How many times in secret, creating a world anew,
I’ve destroyed the real one, breaking the bond we knew,
And for future days, I feel I’m reborn,
Families, nations, leaders, I rewrite with my scorn,
And on their throne of grandeur, I raise a new kin,
In a common homeland, I see a globe made thin!
Petty and narrow sentiments of our age,
Enough generations wrapped in your swaddling stage,
You’ve clothed, yet they remain infants still,
From our century to the next, you instill the thrill,
You’re the compromise to progress, you’ve paved the way,
Have you succeeded? Answer, for time’s running astray,
And the other, now, raises its own voice to say!
Ah! My heart feels so full of tears, I fear,
They, not I, are the ones who steer!
More than ever, the burden weighs us down,
And bread is denied to those without a crown!
More than ever, this vast earth’s expanse,
Cannot feed all it births in its dance,
More than ever, thoughts are just a notion,
And poets are leaves in the wind’s commotion!
The poor and rich dine not at the same table,
And the same atmosphere presses down with no fable,
Change exists only in procedures, they say;
Smiles on lips, but in hearts, disdain holds sway;
Contempt overwhelms one who doesn’t know,
That the world is a house of tricks, and so,
It allows you to have, through deception’s sleight,
Well-crafted cards to play the grand joke right,
As long as you don’t get caught in another’s deceit’s flight!
I hadn’t dreamt the world as it truly is,
And waking up today, the suddenness is bliss,
Sometimes I feel like hiding, like fleeing,
Or alone, mercilessly, madly, self-destroying,
To no longer see the sunlight’s gleam,
And cast off life’s robe, a shredded seam!
Poor children still at their dear mother’s breast,
Smiling at this sun, unaware of the world’s unrest,
You, with souls filled with kindness deep,
Who’ll lose that innocence in sleep,
With hearts of gold, in innocent chests residing,
Yet understanding not these long laments abiding,
With brows clearer than the azure sky,
With souls as pure as fire’s light, oh so high,
If your fate is to step into my shoes someday,
Into a circle of hearts in decay,
Close your eyes;… Die; don’t enter this fray;
Come into the world pure, leave it that way!
What?… Tears drown me, I can’t restrain,
The pain accent within when mums see with pain,
Their little ones, with hearts so full of care,
Gazing at their children with a forlorn stare!
What?… Dear souls to perish?… No, I say!
Die, sad poet, with your bitter lees,
From which you spark off endless wars with ease!
To die!… My days are numbered today,
Wretched mothers, it’s too late for me to slay!
But if that woman who, in her prime,
In days of glory, in triumphant chime,
When she tamed fate with her captivating mirth,
Was fated to carry the dreaming earth,
Oh! If only that woman could have known,
What fate she prepared for me, her own,
Would it not have been better, with ruthless hands,
To kill me outright, and then meet her demands?
Cruel society, forever accusing,
Many sought your light, but were left bruising,
They burnt out, and their hearts, like sacred urns,
Keep only ashes of a thousand yearns,
Many brought their youth into your midst,
To refresh your old age with youthful mist:
You, quickly devouring each offering with glee,
Used them and watched them fall, helplessly,
Instead of extending a hand to feeling’s victim,
You laughed. Fatal times! When tears don’t excite,
Only ironic laughter or hypocritical pity ignite,
Overpower you: let humanity’s curse take flight!
Alexandru Macedonski (14 March 1854–24 November 1920) was a prolific Romanian poet, novelist, dramatist, and literary critic. Renowned for his advocacy of French Symbolism in Romania, he played a pivotal role in spearheading the Romanian Symbolist movement during its formative years. His works continue to influence Romanian literature and culture to this day.
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