Anonymous Stonemasons

cuckoo

In the enclosure of the bedlam there are some statues

Scrupulously sculpted by anonymous sculptors

Who have passed by and disappeared into the world,

Forgetting these works under the sign of nobody !

 

The sturdy stones begin to fight against each other in the pile

With their broken bodies moistened with green lichen –

A glory in the mud I saw:

Titans have fallen from sockets, posthumous decays !…

 

A world of profiles carved by a fine chisel –

With crashes, with defeats of their grandiose purpose !

An Anonymous World in which the Rock Top Mime

Creeps, is confused with the anonymous sculptor !

 

Sublime Michelangelo, look at your brave sons

How, locked in the rock, they are born to be slaves forever !

Tudor George, Pietrarii anonimi

translated from Romanian by Marcel Rus

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Tatiana Tolstaya – Remembering Leo Tolstoy

In an investigation, a Parisian newspaper asked the question: what sign makes us recognize the coming of old age ?  Someone replied: old age comes when your memories overwhelm you.

velho-tolstoi

Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy

 For some time I have felt this very intense. In my moments of loneliness, I see fragments from my past. I review a certain scene, think I hear voices… These memories are often related to my father, Leo Tolstoy, who was everything  I had dearest and brighter in my life.

I can not always relate them to events that preceded or followed them, nor to fix them at a certain date. But I see the episode as if it had happened yesterday. I write down these  “memory flashes” as they emerge.

Dad Gets a Baksheesh

From Moscow to Iasnaia Poliana is about 200 km and sometimes my father was walking this way. With the bag in his back, he mingled among the pilgrims he was interested in, but for whom he has been just a simple traveler. He was making this trip in five days. On the way, he stopped eating and sleeping in a wooden house or at a country inn. When he approached a train station, he went to eat in the waiting room of the third class.

In one of these stops, walking on the platform where a train was ready to leave, he heard someone call him.

Tolstoy-Basinsky-big

“Hey, old man, old man !”, a woman yelled from the train window. “Do you want to go to the woman’s toilet and bring me the bag that I left there ? But go quickly, because the train leaves soon.”

My dad ran to the women’s toilet where he was lucky to find the bag, and then gave it to the lady.

“Thank you very much,” said the lady, and gave him a large bronze coin.

“Do you know who you gave those five kopecks ?”, asked her a traveler who recognized the dusty pilgrim as being the author of the book War and Peace. “To Leo Tolstoy !”

“God, what  have I done ! Lev Nikolayevich, Lev Nikolayevich ! Please forgive me and give me back the five kopecks I gave you out of my stupidity .”

“Why ?”, my dad answered. You didn’t do anything wrong. The five kopecks I won honestly. I keep them…”

The train moved into motion, carrying with it the lady who continued to apologize, bagging Tolstoy to give her the coin back.

Tolstoy, with a smile, was watching the train moving away.

from Tatiana Tolstaya, Avec Leon Tolstoi. Souvenirs

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The Sailing Vessel

sailing-ship

The rich sands

Have filled the bay, and we

Waiting for a sign of departure… Now,

The sky is clear and the birds,

Why don’t birds sing anymore ?

Oh, even the rum

From the green

Moon

Sounds a bit like a whisper.

 

Sing friends and freely lift

The canvas !

 

On the black hills

Laughs

The eagle owl.

 

Sing… Only you don’t know

The wind is good and the sailing vessel

Rests on the sand.

Iosif Caraiman, Corabia

translated from Romanian by Marcel Rus

#bay, #birds, #canvas, #departure, #eagle-owl, #hills, #moon, #rum, #sailing-vessel, #sands, #sign, #sing, #sky, #whisper, #wind