Traduceri poetice (vol. 1) [18]
Pr. Dr. Dorin Octavian Picioruș
Traduceri poetice
(vol. 1)
*
Floarea Țuțuianu,
The power of words[1]
If I had known the power of words,
I wouldn’t have written. Never.
Maybe this way God would have turned
His face towards me.
And suddenly I would become. Humble.
I would have bowed my head down to Your feet.
Only the words do not turn against me.
To learn to say YES –
Thy will be done. Never No.
I would have prayed
that I wouldn’t be so preoccupied
with myself that I forgot about You.
And then I wouldn’t have suddenly grown old.
I wouldn’t have suddenly become wise.
The words wouldn’t have turned against me.
Hurting me so badly.
Waiting for the wounds to bloom in.
Waiting. Watchfulness.
At the traffic lights. To see green
and be able to cross
to the other side by the hand with You.
And in your eyes to be young and beautiful.
And dry and lean meat to become
tender and fragrant. Stench.
Why so much anxiety, fear and dread,
when in every Akathist it is said:
„Rejoice, white lily that has sprung up
in the garden above!
Rejoice, very beautiful fragrant rose!
Rejoice, Flower –
you who are a flower among flowers!”?
Why so much anxiety, fear, dread,
when you don’t remember the trauma?
It could be an intrauterine trauma
when someone keeps tickling you
with a twisted object only,
only you’ll be a blood stain,
but you don’t and don’t…
And with this No
with which you sealed your body,
devoid of pleasure, of joy,
whipped so as WHAT?
To show that what is impossible is possible?
That is it possible what is against nature?
Why transform so much sensitivity,
beauty into hardness and strength?!
When you are the most wounded
and you are waiting
for the wound to blossom.
Nicolae Coande[2], Ode to garbage[3]
(Speech upon receiving
the No/Bel[4] Prize for Po[5]Heresy)
Majestet,
Dine kongelige Høyhet,
Mine Damer og Herrer[6],
Good people,
I am certainly overwhelmed
by the honor that was given to me
(I specifically use the simple perfect
to specify the area where I come from[7]).
This award is undeserved considering
how many romanian poets
can receive it.
I want to thank my parents
for their patience in having a stone
in the house, year after year,
one that reads, writes, and, of course,
is capable of growing moss on the north side.
Preoccupied with moving forward disguised
rather than showing his true face.
To the family that supported me all these years
when the garbage had to be evacuated.
Maybe the garbage was me.
I come from a country
where a lot of garbage is produced.
A country where the garbage is increasing
day by day.
At high, medium and minimum level,
and I’m not even talking about
the underground garbage.
Thank you to my country for its ability
to produce unlimited garbage!
The brilliance of this day makes me forget
for a moment its profound garbage.
I want to raise my glass
and toast to the garbage of the world.
For its ever-increasing share who nailed me
in my poetry at its base.
In the waiting of a verse that no longer comes,
of the inspiration that was delayed.
Blocked perhaps by the garbage
of my country, of the world,
or perhaps by some unknown obstacle.
The garbage, even if you don’t believe me,
produces poetry, it is fruitful.
It helped me in the fight with sterility.
A world without garbage
is just that sterile.
Inefficient, aseptic,
it produces only satisfaction,
and we, the poets,
must always be dissatisfied.
Not infrequently in conflict with
the garbage collectors,
who come to pick it up,
but today I reconcile with them.
And I thank them for the organized opposition
to writing poetry.
That’s good for poetry, as you’ll never know.
I raise this glass of trash to our health, everyone!
[1] Am tradus poemul de aici: https://revistavatra.org/2026/04/27/floarea-tutuianu-poeme-4/#more-16261. Despre autoare: https://polirom.ro/autori/2607-floarea-țuțuianu și https://revistavatra.org/2016/11/03/vatra-dialog-cu-floarea-tutuianu-ma-zbat-intre-a-crede-si-a-ma-indoi-fara-sa-le-amplific/.
[2] Despre autor: https://ro.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nicolae_Coande.
[3] Am tradus poemul de aici: https://revistavatra.org/2026/04/20/nicolae-coande-oda-gunoiului/#more-16233.
[4] Nobel.
[5] Poetry.
[6] In norwegian:
Your Majesty,
Your Royal Highness,
Ladies and Gentlemen.
[7] From Olt county, Romania.