Stefan
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=POWAIVElOWw
Die Ratten
In Hof scheint weiß der herbstliche Mond.
Vom Dachrand fallen phantastische Schatten.
Ein Schweigen in leeren Fenstern wohnt;
Da tauchen leise herauf die Ratten
Und huschen pfeifend hier und dort
Und ein gräulicher Dunsthauch wittert
Ihnen nach aus dem Abort,
Den geisterhaft der Mondschein durchzittert
Und sie keifen vor Gier wie toll
Und erfüllen Haus und Scheunen,
Die von Korn und Früchten voll.
Eisige Winde im Dunkel greinen.
The Rats (tr. Eric Plattner)
The hunter's moon cuts straight through the farmyard.
From the roof's edge a shadow descends.
The window empties itself without a word.
Up the stairs, below one's breath, the rats cavort.
And the scuttling whistles here and there
and the grizzly whiff of your human stink
gives you away,
the ghost in the moonlight trembles through and through
and their bottomless greed tugs at you
and the houses and barns comply,
pregnant with corn and fruit.
In the dark out there the icy wind thrashes and weeps.
Les rats (tr. Pierre Mathé)
La lune d'automne baigne de blanc la cour.
Des ombres fantastiques tombent du bord du toit.
Un mutisme habite les fenêtres vides ;
De là émergent doucement les rats.
Et en couinant ils se glissent ça et là
Et une émanation grisâtre s'exhale
Derrière eux en provenance des latrines,
Tremblement fantomatique dans le clair de lune
Et comme fous, ils glapissent de voracit��
Et emplissent maisons et granges
Emplies de grains et de fruits.
Des vents glacés pleurnichent dans le noir.
Guzganii (tr. Mihail Nemeş)
În curte, tomnatică lună de var.
Streşini aruncă fantastice umbre.
În goale ferestre e linişte iar;
Guzganii acum din cotloane sumbre
Ies şuierând, şi se ia pe urmele lor
Un groaznic miros de latrină
Ce-n clarul de lună, uşor,
Ca o fantomă se-nclină.
Şi lacomi se ceartă, turbaţi,
Şi-n hambare şi-odăi se răsfaţă,
Prin grâne şi fructe uitaţi.
În neguri gem vânturi de gheaţă.
1. L'ideal
A. Ce qu'il faut à ce coeur profond comme un abîme,
C'est vous, Lady Macbeth, âme puissante au crime,
Rêve d'Eschyle éclos au climat des autans ...
B. To this heart deeper than the deepest canyon,Lady Macbeth would be a fit companion,Crime-puissant dream of Aeschylus ... (tr. Roy Campbell)C. Zu meinem abgrunds-tiefen herzen sprechenNur Lady Macbeth mächtig im verbrechen– Ein Æschyl-schatten der im frost entstund –(tr. Stefan George)D. Potriva-acestei inimi ca ocna de adâncăEşti tu, lady Macbeth: în vântul crimei, stâncă,Vis roşu-al lui Aeschile prin albii munţi golaşi ...(tr. Ion Barbu)E. O, inimii aceştia, genune nesfârşită,Doar tu-i placi, Lady Macbeth, în crime cătrănităTu, vis al lui Eschyle, în neguri făurit ...(tr. Lazăr Iliescu)F. Privind în mine însumi, te văd ca-ntr-un abis, Pe tine, lady Macbeth, femeia ce-a ucis,Un vis al lui Eschyle stârnit de-un uragan(tr. Al Hodoş)2. Le RevenantA. Comme d'autres par la tendresse,Sur ta vie et sur ta jeunesse,Moi, je veux régner par l'effroi.B. Others by tenderness and ruthWould reign over your life and youth,But I would rule by fear alone.(tr. Roy Campbell)C. As by tenderness and ruthOthers rule thy life and youth,I by terror choose to reign. (tr. Jack Collings Squire)D. Wie andre durch zartes bestrebenBeherrsch ich dein junges lebenDurch des schreckens gewalt.(tr. Stefan George) E. Cum alţii prin iubire-ar vreaSă stăpânească viaţa ta,Eu vreau s-o stăpânesc prin groază.(tr. Al. Philippide)F. Alţii vor stăpâni să-ţi fiePrin umilă gingăşie,Eu prin groază vreau să-ţi fiu.(tr. D. Iacobescu)G. Căci precum alţii prin iubirePe viaţa ta pun stăpânireEu domn prin spaimă vreau să-ţi fiu.(tr. Gherghinescu Vania)
3. Spleen (II)
A. — Je suis un cimetière abhorré de la lune,
Où comme des remords se traînent de longs vers
Qui s'acharnent toujours sur mes morts les plus chers.
B. — I am a cemetery abhorred by the moon,In which long worms crawl like remorseAnd constantly harass my dearest dead. (tr. William Aggeler)C. A graveyard, I, abominated by the moon,Where, like a viscous worm, remorse thrusts out his headTo strike forever at my most beloved dead.(tr. Jacques LeClercq)D. Ich bin ein kirchhof dem die sterne grollenWo – innre qualen – lange würmer ziehnSie raffen meine liebsten toten hin.(tr. Stefan George) E. – Sunt cimitirul muced, afurisit de lună,În care stau la pândă lungi viermi neadormiţiTârându-se să-mi roadă toţi morţii mei iubiţi.(tr. Al. Philippide) 4. Spleen (IV) A. — Et de longs corbillards, sans tambours ni musique,Défilent lentement dans mon âme; l'Espoir,Vaincu, pleure, et l'Angoisse atroce, despotique,Sur mon crâne incliné plante son drapeau noir.B. — And without drums or music, long hearsesPass by slowly in my soul; Hope, vanquished,Weeps, and atrocious, despotic AnguishOn my bowed skull plants her black flag.(tr. William Aggeler)C. — And long hearses, with no drums, no music,File slowly through my soul: Hope,Conquered, cries, and despotic atrocious AgonyPlants on my bent skull its flag of black.(tr. Geoffrey Wagner)D. Ein leichenzug ohne trommel und klang unaufhaltsamUnd langsam in meiner seele vorübertanzt ..Die hoffnung weint und die angst entsetzlich gewaltsamAuf meinem geneigten schädel ihr banner pflanzt.(tr. Stefan George)E. – Şi lungi şi nesfârşite convoaie mortuareÎncet şi fără muzici prin suflet trec mereu;Speranţa-nvinsă plânge; şi rea, dominatoare,Înfige Spaima negrul ei steag în craniul meu.(tr. Al. Philippide)F. Iar şiruri lungi de ciocli, tăcuţi şi fără zgomot,Cu-ncetul se strecoară în sufletu-mi pribeag;Speranţa-nvinsă plânge, iar groaza nemiloasăÎn ţeasta mea plecată înfige negru-i steag.(tr. Vladimir Chardin, 1896)G. – În sufletu-mi trec dricuri şi nimenea nu cântăSperanţa doar învinsă se vaietă mocnit,Când spaima fioroasă despotic îmi împlântă,Pe craniul ce se pleacă drapelul ei cernit.(tr. C. D. Zeletin)H. – Şi dricuri, fără tobe şi muzică pioasă,Îmi trec târâş prin suflet; Speranţa plânge-nfrântă,Şi pe-nclinatul creştet, o Spaimă nemiloasăDrapelul ei cel negru despotic mi-l împlântă.(tr. Al. Hodoş)
5. Les litanies de Satan
A. Gloire et louange à toi, Satan, dans les hauteurs
Du Ciel, où tu régnas, et dans les profondeurs
De l'Enfer, où, vaincu, tu rêves en silence!
Fais que mon âme un jour, sous l'Arbre de Science,
Près de toi se repose, à l'heure où sur ton front
Comme un Temple nouveau ses rameaux s'épandront!
*
B. Glory and praise to you, O Satan, in the heights
Of Heaven where you reigned and in the depths
Of Hell where vanquished you dream in silence!
Grant that my soul may someday repose near to you
Under the Tree of Knowledge, when, over your brow,
Its branches will spread like a new Temple!
(tr. William Aggeler)
C. Glory and praise to Thee, Satan, on high,
Where Thou didst reign, in Hell where Thou dost lie,
Vanquished, silent, dreaming eternally.
Grant that my soul some day rest close to Thee
Under the Tree of Knowledge which shall spread
Its branches like a Temple overhead.
(tr. Jacques LeClercq)
D. Mărire, slavă ţie, Satan, în înălţimi
De ceruri, unde rege ai fost, şi-n adâncimi
De iad, în care-acuma învins, visezi în tihnă!
Ia-mi sufletul aproape de tine, spre odihnă,
Sub arborele ştiinţei, când fruntea-ţi de erou
Sub crengile-i luci-va ca într-un templu nou!
(tr. Ştefan Bascovici)
E. Mărire, slavă ţie, Satan, în înălţimi
Unde domneai odată, şi-n negre adâncimi
În care-ţi depeni visul înfrânt, pe sculul minţii!
Fă ca şi eu o dată, sub pomul Cunoştinţii,
Când templul lui de ramuri te va încununa,
Să pot să stau alături, smerit, la dreapta ta!
(tr. Lazăr Iliescu)
First read. Sep 2011.
A practical (and theoretical!) guide on how to write a professional Romanian gothic horror. Influenced perhaps by Poe, M. Shelley and Walpole (and even De Sade) and containing a strong epic doom and gothic metal subcurrent (MDB, Theater of Tragedy, Lacrimas Profundere and even HIM [!]), a good knowledge of magick and esoteric practices (a bit of Meyrink also), Craznic's novel deserves to be translated in English, its witty and dark effects on the readers being mesmerizing. I would have published the postface as an article, leaving the story untouched. Still the postface is useful: consider only Poe's “Raven” and his “Philosophy of Composition”. I'm looking forward with excitment to reading Craznic's future novels.
Second read. Feb 2014.
Palahniuk owes a lot to the author of “White Noise”. Especially Heinrich frequently enters in a Tyler or Rant mode. DeLillo's novel is impressive, in spite of its somehow dated “heroic” Postmodernism . Open a book by Palahniuk, Ellis or Clevenger and you would reach a more violent, shocking and intense universe, a version of “Postmodernism in war against itself”. A recent philosopher noted that one must only read a text published after 2010 or watch the latest movie to feel what life after Postmodernism means and to see how dated Postmodernism which believed in itself is. Influenced by Baudrillard, Lyotard, Becker but also by Kierkegaard and Tolstoy, DeLillo writes a brilliant novel, almost a “classic” I would say, that can easily compete with Joyce for instance and that becomes a point of reference, a Ground Zero for the revolutionary masterpieces of the 1990's and 2000's created by his - acknowledged or closet - disciples.
I would compare this book to Sein und Zeit and L'Être et le Néant – two philosophical masterpieces, two trademarks of the history of spirit in the 20th century. I didn't understand it 100%, I have to come back to it, I need to read more medicine, neurology and psychology. I have read tons of secondary bibliography in the last decade about Freud and his school; reading the book was a wonderful experience because I had the feeling of going to the absolute source (or one of them because Schopenhauer and Nietzsche are the real forerunners of the inconscious). Some of the fragments are brilliant and I agree with a friend of mine - a Freudian psychologist - who said to me that the essence of Freud is scattered in a page or two, the rest is just a cover up. The Interpretation of Dreams has at least 10 such pages, you have to figure out where to find them.
I intend to write an essay about three of the books written in 1888 by Nietzsche: the most explosive, the “crazy” ones. What I have found out, re-reading them, is that Nietzsche wasn't crazy at all when he conceived “The Twilight of Idols” for instance (as some psychiatrists claim). His truths are more powerful, deeper and more energetic. There is an incredible tension but also a massive - almost unbelieveable - intuition. In his hidden, occult way (pre-psychanalytic), Nietzsche is almost always right. His truth may be “perverse” but it is nevertheless a strong truth. I'd rather be insane with Nietzsche than “normal” with Kant. However, because Nietzsche has written this books weeks before his mental breakdown, they are somehow mythologically charged. Before experiencing his abyss, the German writer had perhaps the most formidable intelectual adventure of all times: if Zarathustra is Everest, Genealogy of the Morals and the writtings from the fateful 1888 are a trip to Moon and Mars. The aforementioned virtual essay of mine will probably emulate Papini's tone from the “Twilight of Philosophers”.
(3rd read: June 2013.)
To be arguably the greatest philosopher in history (or at least the most radical one) and to also be a brilliant poet (in Baudelaire's and Trakl's league): who could be Nietzsche's equal?
“Und dienen will ich nun und nie.”
“...gesund ist, wer vergass.”
“Geh nur die selber treulich nach: -
So folgst du mir - gemach! gemach!”
“Flamme bin ich sicherlich.”
“adlerhaft, pantherhaft
sind des Dichters Sehnsüchte.”
Unul din cei mai puternici poeti optzecisti. Primul sau volum, Mona-Monada (1981), e scris in anul cand implineam un an. Observ ca multe din temele nihilismului meu (cuiele mele de la grenade) sunt anticipate de aceasta placheta. Nu credeam sa gasesc un poet roman care sa practice un asemenea terorism spiritual. Mircea A. Diaconu, in postfata, gaseste sursele poeziei lui Vasiliu la N. Stanescu si la Bacovia. Vasiliu are un fel de orientare metafizica si asta il apropie de Stanescu (mai ales in volumele ulterioare), comparatia cu Bacovia este, insa, extrem de relevanta. Cel care pentru generatia lui Eliade si Cioran era un poet minor si care este unul canonic pentru noi (probabil alta greseala) a adus, pe filonul E.A. Poe, Baudelaire, Lautreamont, o anumita intunecime oculta in poezia romana, un soare negru, care n-a incetat sa-si proiecteze umbrele asupra noastra. In Mona-Monada, Vasiliu este, la fel ca Nietzsche, Wagner, Cioran, Palahniuk si Baudrillard, un punct de intersectie intre nihilism si terorism, un calator dincolo de capatul noptii, un outsider format la scoala lui Meursault. Vasiliu este cavalerul invizibil al Apocalipsei.
De anima
Plopii se dezgheata in ferestrele
azilului de noapte.
Beau asfintitul
din orbitele cailor
Asta-noapte a cazut
din perete
“Madona cu pruncul”
strivind milioane de paianjeni
Dumnezeu este singura metafora
intr-un camp minat
intr-un camp petrolifer.
Dumnezeu:
un mort in plus
printre morminte
Nimic despre
bagajele secrete
nimic despre
briciul descoperit in zapada
Poem final
Haladuiesc de unul singur intr-un oras
cu peste 300 de mii de oameni. Un cer
ca un imens cargou petrolier in nemiscare:
vad cum Dumnezeu se arunca sub rotile
silentiosului tramvai
Prietenul lucreaza in asceza la
Tractatus de impotentia: astfel
izbucneste incendiul la periferie
explodeaza inima intr-un camp minat
Sare in aer laboratorul alchimic:
inima putreda prin care bate vantul
inima de piatra la temelia unui edificiu
al carui nume imi scapa
Dar nimeni nu se sinucide...
Trece un betiv cu un caine sub brat.
Gesticuleaza, vorbeste:
corabie in larg pe care o pierd
in scurt timp din vedere
Dar noaptea aceasta e prea lunga. Cine
o poate scurta?
Imi tai un deget.
Celelalte in cor: taie-ne si pe noi!
Exprim un cuvant.
Celelalte in cor: si pe noi, si pe noi!
Acum observ ca bocancii imi sunt ferfenita
si ma grabesc sa-i arunc
Dar poemul acesta e prea lung.
Noaptea aceasta e prea lunga.
Scot cutitul si HARSTI, un deget.
Celelalte in cor: si e noi, si pe noi!
HARSTI! HARSTI! HARSTI!
Der Panther
Im Jardin des Plantes, Paris
Sein Blick ist von Vorübergehen der Stäbe
so müd geworden, daß er nichts mehr hält.
Ihm ist, als ob es tausend Stäbe gäbe
und hinter tausend Stäben keine Welt.
Der weiche Gang geschmeidig starker Schritte,
der sich im allerkleinsten Kreise dreht,
ist wie ein Tanz von Kraft um eine Mitte,
in der betäubt ein großer Wille steht.
Nur manchmal schiebt der Vorhang der Pupille
sich lautlos auf—. Dann geht ein Bild hinein,
geht durch der Glieder angespannte Stille—
und hört im Herzen auf zu sein.
Pantera (tr. Al. Philippide)
In Jardin des Plantes, Paris
Privirea ei de gratii atata s-a lovit
incat in ea nimic nu mai pastreaza.
Si parca mii de gratii tot trec necontenit
si dupa gratii lumea inceteaza.
Al pasilor puternici mers marunt
ce-ntr-un minuscul cerc se invarteste
e ca un dans al fortei in jurul unui punct
in care-o ametita vointa s-odihneste.
Dar valul ochiului, din cand in cand,
se-nalta. O imagine patrunde,
prin linistea-ncordata a trupului trecand,
si piere-n golul inimii profunde.
I wasn't impressed by Emily Dickinson – actually I've read her because Cioran is one of her biggest fans. What I have disliked: a touch of passive nihilism, of Schopenhauerian renunciation. I am not an active spirit myself, but compared to her I am prince Arjuna from Bhagavad Gita (after the conversation with Krishna). Therefore, I would have wished that the intensity of her poems had sparked up her biography as well. But at the same time I realize that the combination between her fire from within and complete impersonality and public facelessness (“How dreary to be somebody!/ How public, like a frog ...”) turns her in such a splendid case.
What I have enjoyed – the fact that she is such a direct (lyrical) philosopher. She has wonderful poems about anxiety and despair and I am sure (and I am glad) she hasn't read Kierkegaard! She is a true philospher (or better said, a wise woman) and her eyes are so fresh because she doesn't cary the coffin of the history of philosophy (like professional philosophers) after her. She has complete access to immediacy, to directness, to the (essence of the) Real that transgresses ordinary reality. Moreover, she has an aphoristic genius which completes this surreal wisdom.
“Power is only pain,
Stranded, through discipline”
“THE soul unto itself
Is an imperial friend,—
Or the most agonizing spy
An enemy could send.”
“Anger as soon as fed is dead;
'T is starving makes it fat”
“REMORSE is memory awake”
“THE brain is wider than the sky,
For, put them side by side,
The one the other will include
With ease, and you beside.”
“SOME keep the Sabbath going to church;
I keep it staying at home,
With a bobolink for a chorister,
And an orchard for a dome.”
“PROUD of my broken heart since thou didst break it,
Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee”
“LOVE is anterior to life,
Posterior to death,
Initial of creation, and
The exponent of breath.”
“A death-blow is a life-blow to some
Who, till they died, did not alive become;
Who, had they lived, had died, but when
They died, vitality begun.”
“ONE need not be a chamber to be haunted,
One need not be a house;
The brain has corridors surpassing
Material place.”
“THE difference between despair
And fear, is like the one
Between the instant of a wreck,
And when the wreck has been.”
“A thunder storm combines the charms
Of Winter and of Hell.”
Mazilu's English is extraordinary – I never felt for a moment that this book was written by a non-native English speaker. I was impressed by the range of his vocabulary and I even looked up many words in the dictionary. From my perspective, a writer who created such a good dark fantasy novel directly in English has two more challenges (and perhaps two “duties”) left: to write a similar novel in Romanian (except Crâznic's celebrated Gothic novel, I don't see much competition) and to write a non-fantasy (“serious”) novel in English. I'm not in the habit of saying grand words but with his level of English, he would be able to able to emulate – let's say – Nabokov. So as far as I'm concerned, Mazilu owes us at least two great novels.
The foreword written by Dana Dorian makes an interesting and supported claim: “[Andrei] takes you by the hand, but doesn't lead you to a quiet spot in the library; instead, you suddenly find yourself transported in a live cinema ...” It is true that Mazilu's writing is highly visual and that his novel could nicely be turned into a movie. Directors like James Cameron (Avatar) or Tom Tykwer (Perfume) are suitable for the subtlety and originality of Andrei's mythology. To continue this sci-fi line of argument, the star from Vampire Diaries, who also played in a TV series related to the story from Crux (Fallen), Paul Wesley would be a good choice for some of the human characters. I'm not sure that I would cast Nina Dobrev (Helena from Vampire Diaries) in Kara's part, although there are several similarities. On the other hand, I don't see a better Akaba than Jason Momoa (Conan) and a better Maar than Chris Hemsworth (Thor).
More about Mazilu's book here!
