A L S O AVA I L A B L E B Y N I C O L A E B R E TA N

Golem & Arald, Operas in One Act (NI 5424)

The Songs of Nicolae Bretan

Luceafarul (The Evening Star) Opera in One Act (NI 5463)

Horia, Opera in Seven Scenes (NI 5513/4)
Ludovic Konya sings Bretan songs
My Lieder-Land Volume 1 (NI 5637)
My Lieder-Land Volume 2 (NI 5640)
Sacred Songs (NI 5584)

Alexandru Agache sings Bretan songs (NI 5810)

This CD-Extra is compatible with standard audio CD players. Using a computer CD-ROM drive will give access to a PDF file
containing the booklet note in German and the song texts in Romanian, English, French & German. The PDF file requires Adobe
Reader to be installed, this free application can be downloaded from http://www.adobe.com

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Julius Drake, piano

Harry Le Bovit

Nicolae Bretan, at the age of 76, singing one of his songs.

NI 5809

Julius Drake
The pianist Julius Drake lives in London and specialises in the
field of chamber music, working with many of the worlds
leading vocal and instrumental artists, both in recital and on
disc. He appears at all the major music centres: in recent
seasons concerts have regularly taken him to theAldeburgh,
Edinburgh, Munich, Salzburg, Schubertiade, and
Tanglewood Festivals; to Carnegie Hall and Lincoln Centre,
New York; the Concertgebouw, Amsterdam; the Chatelet,
Paris; the Musikverein and the Konzerthaus,Vienna; and the
Wigmore Hall and BBC Proms, London. Director of the
Perth International Chamber Music Festival inAustralia from
20002003, Julius Drake was also musical director in
Deborah Warners staging of Janaceks Diary of One who
Vanished, touring to Munich, London, Dublin, Amsterdam
and New York. Recordings include award-winning recitals
with Ian Bostridge, Hugues Cuenod, Nicholas Daniel, Derek
Lee Ragin, Sophie Daneman, Paul Agnew, Katarina
Karneus, Annette Bartholdy, Christianne Stotijn, Gerald
Finley, Joyce Didonato, Christian Poltera, andAlice Coote.

The Songs of
NICOLAE BRETAN

Ruxandra Donose, mezzo-soprano

Julius Drake, piano

Julius Drake
Pianistul Julius Drake locuiete n Londra i este specialist n
domeniul muzicii de camer, lucrnd cu numeroi interprei
i instrumentiti celebri ai lumii, att n recital ct i la
nregistrri. Particip la evenimente din toate marile centre
muzicale: n ultima perioad a concertat frecvent la
Aldeburgh, Edinburgh, Munich, Salzburg, Schubertiade, i
la Festivalul de la Tanglewood; la Carnegie Hall i Lincoln
Centre, New York; la Concertgebouw, Amsterdam; la
Chatelet, Paris; la Musikverein i Konzerthaus, Viena; i la
Wigmore Hall i BBC Proms, Londra. Director al
Festivalului Internaional de Muzic de Camer de la Perth,
n Australia n perioada 20002003, Julius Drake a fost i
dirijorul principal n concertul realizat dup opera lui Janacek,
Diary of One who Vanished (Jurnalul celui disprut), pus n

scen de DeborahWarner i care a fcut un turneu la Munich,

Londra, Dublin, Amsterdam i New York. nregistrrile
cuprind recitalurile care au fost premiate, interpretate de Ian
Bostridge, Hugues Cuenod, Nicholas Daniel, Derek Lee
Ragin, Sophie Daneman, Paul Agnew, Katarina Karneus,
Annette Bartholdy, Christianne Stotijn, Gerald Finley, Joyce
Didonato, Christian Poltera iAlice Coote.

38

The poets are George Cobuc (Tracks 3, 4, 7 - 9), Victor Eftimiu (Tracks 5 & 16),
Carolina Bretan, mother of the composer (Track 2),
Mihai Eminescu (Tracks 1, 6, 10, 11, 13, 15, 17), Octavian Goga (Tracks 12 & 14)
Translations of the poems into English and French by Judit Bretan, daughter of the composer.
Translations of the poems into German from English by Kurt Jankowsky.
Recorded by Nimbus Records at Wyastone Leys, Monmouth, U.K. 6 & 7 July 2005
2007 Wyastone Estate Limited 2007 Wyastone Estate Limited

1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17

I DAC RAMURI BAT N GEAM (And If Branches Beat Against The Window)

CUCULE, DE CE NU VII? (Cuckoo, Why Dont You Return?)

REA DE PLAT (The Reluctant Debt Payer)

NU TE-AI PRICEPUT! (You Were Such A Knucklehead!)

N PARCUL LUXEMBURG (In Luxemburg Gardens)

PE LNG PLOPII FR SO (Where Mateless Poplars Grow)

NOAPTE DE VAR (Summer Night)
GAZEL (Gazel)

IDEAL (Illusion)

N FEREASTRA DINSPRE MARE (At The Window On The Sea)

O, VIN PE MARE (Come Down To The Sea)

LUN, LUN, STEA VICLEAN (Moon, Moon, You Wily Star)

PE ACEEAI ULICIOAR (On The Same Lane)
LA GROAPA LUI LAIE (At The Grave Of Laie)

-ACELE DULCI PRERI DE RU (And That Sweet Remorse)

PREA SUS AI FOST! (So Far Above!)
STELELE-N CER (Stars In The Sky)

2.07

2.30

1.56

4.10

4.05

2.03

5.42
2.25

22.41
2.27

2.14

1.09
2.25

5.56

Ruxandra Donose
Artist ilustr a generaiei sale, mezzsoprana romnc,
Ruxandra Donose, a cules aplauzele criticilor i ale publicului
n marile sli de concerte i de oper. Vocea ei a fost descris
ca o mezzosopran uimitor de captivant i de limpede, fr
suspensii i cu un timbru desvrit. Tehnica vocal
expresiv, talentul muzical amplu, dublate de apariia sa
scenic ncnttoare i ngduie s interpreteze un vast
repertoriu vocal-simfonic i de oper.
A nceput la Opera de Stat din Viena, ca mai apoi s
concerteze pe marile scene ale lumii, de la Royal Opera
House Covent Garden din Londra pn la Metropolitan
Opera din New York, de la San Francisco Opera la Opera
Naional din Paris, Berlin, Madrid sau Tokyo, sub bagheta
unor dirijori precum Claudio Abbado, Sergiu Celibidache,
Seiji Osawa, Zubin Mehta, Christoph von Dohnany, Mariss
Jansson, Vladimir Jurowsky i muli alii. Artista abordeaz
cu mare pasiune liedul, iar aceast colecie de cntece
romneti ale interpretului, poetului i compozitorului Nicolae
Bretan reprezint o ans de a mbina bogia de culori ale
glasului su cu savoarea i melodia propriului limbaj.

Ruxandra Donose
Among the most renowned of her generation, Romanian
mezzo-soprano Ruxandra Donose has captured critical and
popular acclaim in leading opera houses and concert halls.
Her voice has been described as an "incredibly exciting,
flowing mezzo-soprano, which has no breaks and a flawless
timbre." Her expressive vocalism, thoughtful musicianship,
and elegant stage presence allow her to pursue an extensive
operatic and orchestral repertoire. Beginning with theVienna
State Opera, engagements led her all over the world, from
the Royal Opera House Covent Garden in London to the
Metropolitan Opera New York, from San Francisco Opera
to The Opera National de Paris, Berlin, Madrid or Tokyo,
working with conductors such Claudio Abbado, Sergiu
Celibidache, Seiji Osawa, Zubin Mehta, Christoph von
Dohnany, Mariss Jansson, Vladimir Jurowsky and many
others. It is with great passion that she approaches the lied, and
this collection of Romanian songs by singer, poet and
composer Bretan is the occasion to combine her many vocal
colours, with the savour and melody of her own language.

1.33

2.59

3.03

69.35

Total playing time

Nimbus Records wishes to acknowledge with gratitude The Nicolae Bretan Music Foundation
for its generous co-operation in the production of this recording.

37

17 STELELE-N CER

STARS IN THE SKY

Mihai Eminescu

Both the meaning of life and happiness

constantly elude us.

Stelele-n cer
Deasupra mrilor
Ard deprtrilor.
Pn ce pier.

Stars in the sky

Above the seas burn
Through space until extinction.

Dup un semn
Cltind catargele,
Tremur largele
Vase de lemn.

Obeying an unseen signal,

Large ships shake their masts
And tremble.

Stol de cocori
Apuc-ntinsele
i necuprinsele
Drumuri de nori.

Cranes take to the sky,

To the vast undecipherable
Roads of the clouds.

Zboar ce pot
i-a lor ntrecere,
Venic trecere...
Asta e tot.

They fly as far as they can

To joust with their own eternity.
That is all.

Pn nu mor,
Pleac-te, ngere,
La trista-mi plngere
Plin de-amor.

Bow yourself, my angel,

Before my love-filled sobbing,
Until I die.

Nu e pcat
Ca s se lepede
Clipa cea repede
Ce ni s-a dat?

Is it not a shame that

Our fleeting moments
Vanish so quickly?

Floare de crng,
Astfel vieile
i tinereile
Trec i se stng.

Like flowers of a blooming tree,

Life and youth fly past,
Extinguishing themselves.

Orice noroc
-ntinde-aripele,
Gonit de clipele
Strii pe loc.

No luck can lift us out of pain,

So firmly are we cemented
By our mortality.

36

THE SONGS OF NICOLAE BRETAN

b. 25 March 1887, Naszod, Hungary - d. 1 December 1968, Cluj, Romania

Bretans operas, and above all his monumental folk epic Horia, can perhaps be seen as his main body
of work; and yet it is song that runs like a connecting thread through his entire creative life. Whereas
the operas were largely written during the time of his activity at the two theatres in Cluj, the composition
of songs occupied him from his youth until the late years of his life. Bretan, who discovered his passion
for singing very early and began to cultivate his voice, felt just as early the urge to express himself in
songs of his own, to give musical form to his feelings. Although he availed himself of poems in various
different languages for that purpose, his own language seems to have been music, and his true home the
realm of tones. With the title My Lieder-Land and the motto We do not always belong to the land in
which our cradle rocked, and therefore we are often searching for our true fatherland, from Thophile
Gautier, which he placed before his collected songs, he himself confirmed that song was consciously a
central manifestation of his life and work. We are talking about an aggregate of well over 200 songs. The
collection My Lieder-Land alone contains 218 songs, of which 90 were set to Romanian texts, 70 to
Hungarian, and 50 to German.
Where is the original source of his singing and composing to be found? Was he a singer who also
composed or was he a composer who also sang? The first would be a relative rarity in the history of
music, since very few singers, even among the greatest, beside their activity as interpreters, demonstrated
to such an extent as Bretan a need to be creators as well. Obviously musicand that is to say vocal
musicwas for him the most elemental expression of life. And as such it had to seek in both directions
for its realization: in singing and in creating songs. His is not just a case of the lucky combination of two
talents; here are two manifestations of a single and vehement will to express oneself. The human being
and the singing human being must have been identical for Bretan. To him life and singing were one and
the same thing.
However the relationship between the singer Bretan and Bretan the composer may have appeared,
his songs offer proof in every line that here someone has composed for the human voice, someone who
knew, through and through, all the capabilities and all the sensitivities of that instrument. In his songs
there is not one phrase that might do harm to the human voice. For Bretan every vocal line, to paraphrase
Mozart, should fit the voice like well-tailored clothes What that means, looking first at the question
from the negative side, is that Bretan does not write passages that are hostile to the voice, that call for
acrobatic leaps or prolonged sojourns in the tricky passaggio zone or in the extreme latitudes of the
voice.
Looking over that great number of individual songs one soon notices that Bretan had a distinct
preference for certain poets, and a loyalty to them. Among the Romanians, next to Eminescu we again
and again find Goga, Eftimiu, and Cobuc in the forefront; while among the Hungarians Ady was
obviously the composers favourite. As for German poets, the names of Heine and Lenau, later also of
Rilke, keep cropping up. And in all three languages one naturally also meets the poet Bretan. Although
the names of the poets vary, it is clear that the composer Bretan was looking each time for a very
5

particular atmosphere in the poems, an atmosphere that he wanted to express in music. It was a unique
world that attracted him again and again, that he circled again and again, and that led him again and again
to the same poets. That there was something irrational about that world, veering toward the
transcendental, can be shown when the discussion turns to individual songs.
Bretans songs distinguish themselves above all through a simplicity that meets all the requirements
of the category of song. The melodies are singable, graspable, and easily remembered, while the
accompaniments never strive for an independent life of their own, but rather always perfectly serve the
voice and the communication that both must make together. With that honest and natural simplicity
Bretans songs always stay near to the realm of the folk song, though without really being folk songs
themselves. And since, at the same time the composer shuns folkloristic effects, his songs have
something to say that can be understood everywhere, something that is not addressed to one particular
nation only.
It is striking how Bretan with instinctive assurance employs the individual musical elements such
as key, mode, harmony, rhythm, change of meter, fermata, and pause to capture the nuance of a word
and to amplify the statement of the poem. With the simplest means his music communicates what lies
behind the words and between the lines. The secret of poetrythe ability to go beyond the conceptual
content of the words and to cast an atmospheric spell through the intensification of the languageis
translated by Bretan directly into music. With his tones Bretan draws aside a curtain and opens up a
clear view of the metaphysical plane of a poem. Bretan did not have to speak about such things because
he could sing them. He was a seer of souls without psychology, a mystic without philosophy, and a
believer without catechism. His religious fervour, his spiritual depth, and his all-embracing humanity
flowed directly into his music without detours into the territory of the rational word, and with that
directness and depth his music touches and moves the listener.
Moreover, it becomes more and more evident that Bretan understood the essential homelessness of
humankind, or rather, it was clear to him that human beings are searching for their true homeland, and
that this ever unfulfilled longing is alive in a deep stratum of the human soul and is a constant component
of human existence.
One can clearly hear in Bretans creations that they are supported by three strong pillars: an
understanding of the human soul that penetrates its archetypal depths; a sense of the mystical correlation
between human beings and Creation; and a religious feeling that knows no dogmas and is rooted in the
fundamentals of Christianity, the first of which is a love for ones fellow human beings.
The historical musical environment in which Bretan wrote his songs was marked by a development
that threatened the very nature of Song. With Richard Wagner as instigator of the tendency, but equally
with Hugo Wolf, Song had come closer and closer to opera in its style. Even Richard Strauss, Gustav
Mahler, or Hans Pfitzner could not lead Song back to its most characteristic form. Instead they created
a highly romantic category which actually ought to have a new name. Since Song had progressively
become more operatic or symphonic, a development that led Mahler to imbed the song form in individual
movements of his symphonies, a suitable name might be orchestral song. Gustav Mahler still made use
of the word song when he wrote The Song of the Earth, for example, the Songs of a Wayfarer,
6

SO FARABOVE!

16 PREASUSAI FOST!
Victor Eftimiu

Close to earth fly the white birds of hope, the gray birds of
sorrow, the black birds of death; least visible is the blue bird
of happiness, which flies too far above.

White birds circle above the seas,

Is each a yearning for escape?
These are joy's small shrieks and cries.
White birds circle above the seas...
Where have you flown, pale dream of joy?

Sunt pasri albe-n rotogol pe mri

i fiecare, poate, e un dor de duc.
Sunt ipete de bucurie i chemri.
Sunt pasri albe-n rotogol pe mri...
Unde-ai zburat, nluc, palid nluc?

There are gray birds renouncement on the horizon.

The heavy somber beating of their wings
Is the anguish of our broken souls...
Through leaden skies gray birds fly past,
Mute thought, forgotten October cry.

Sunt, n zare, pasri cenuii...

Sunt renunri... bat aripile sombre...
E sufletul ce l-ai avut, fii-fii...
Subt cer de plumb trec pasri cenuii,
Un gnd nespus. Un plns uitat. Octombre!

There are black birds on the ground, there, there.

Who has sent so soon these angels of death?
It seems as though fate might have pitied us, avoided us.
There are black birds on the ground, there, there.
Leave! Prophesize not disaster and defeat!

Sunt pasri negre pe pmnt, colea, colea.

Cine-a trimis aa curnd ai morii ngeri?
Destinul parc se-ndura, ne ocolea...
Sunt pasri negre pe pmnt, colea, colea.
Plecai! Nu mai vestii dezastre i nfrngeri!

And, still, there are large blue birds up above!

But far, too far away and high,
Lights of revival after disaster...
O brilliant large blue birds, far above,
You have escaped from us, all too soon!

Oh, i mai sunt, sunt pasri mari albastre!

Dar prea departe, mult prea departe sus,
Lumini de re-nviere pe dezastre...
Oh, strlucite pasri mari albastre,
Prea sus ai fost i prea curnd v-ai dus!

35

15 -ACELE DULCI PRERI DE RU

AND THAT SWEET REMORSE

Mihai Eminescu

The infidelity of the poet's mistress will be twin to his

bittersweet rage when they both lie under the ground.

-acele dulci preri de ru

-a dragostelor certe . . .
Dar poate fi vr-un Dumnezu
n stare s le ierte?

And that sweet remorse

And love's quarreling. . .
Might there be a God capable
Of forgiving them?

De vom fi una tu i eu
Pmntului asemeni,
Trdarea ta, blestemul meu
Rmn de-apururi gemeni.

Were you and I one,

Equivalent to the soil,
Your treason and my curse
Would be eternal twins.

i toate vremile ce vin

Afla vor dela mine
Ce suflet ai avut n sn
Ce inim n tine.

In times to come,
All will learn from me
What a heart and soul
Lodged within your breast.

n largul negrei venicii

Blestemu-mi s-o renate,
Ce numai tu n-ai vrut s tii
O lume va cunoate!

In eternity's black void

My curse will be reborn
And what you alone would not admit,
The whole world will see!

34

and Songs on the Death of Children, but in all of them the traditional form of Song was finally
abandoned. And when Richard Strauss wrote his Four Last Songs that title could be taken literally, for
those compositions must be seen as the last offshoots of the category of Song.
All the more remarkable, then, that Nicolae Bretanwho as singer, stage director, conductor, opera
manager, and opera composer was immersed in opera with every fibre of his beingwould be the man
to turn away from that late-romantic, highly stylized form of song. That he was familiar with its
beginnings, that is, with Wagner, Liszt, and Wolf, must be presupposed, and that is confirmed by the
programs of his own concerts. On the other hand, it is uncertain whether Bretan had followed the later
development of Richard Strauss. In any case, as a composer he did not choose a path in a similar or
corresponding direction.
Bretan made no attempt to prove himself an innovator or to make an experiment out of music, and
the determining factor is that he was a singer and therefore did not look at song as an artistic product
but rather as a practical sphere of activity, as a direct and immediate communication. It can even be
assumed that a Bretan with the compositional craft of a Max Reger might have totally given up the
composition of songs because the gulf between the complex, chromatically overblown method and the
simple message of a song seemed unbridgeable to him. As a composer Bretan was basically self-taught,
a circumstance which made it possible for him to leave Song in its pure form. He did not disconnect it
from its category. That he could have done so is proven by his operas; and the song Las-i lumea ta
uitat (Forget Your World) in its orchestral version in the opera Luceafrul, (The Evening Star)
shows that Bretan had the technique to give a song an expanded late-romantic form. Quite obviously he
did not want that; for him it was important to preserve, or recover if necessary, the simple form of
communication that is appropriate to a song. In that respect Bretans songs represent a return to the
source of primordial naturalness.
His output of songs is a return to the roots of the romantic sensibility, as expressed in Eichendorffs
poem Schlft ein Lied in allen Dingen (A Song is Sleeping in All Things). That return could at first
glance appear to be an impoverishment; instead, in Bretans case, it represents a unique enrichment.
And that is because he did not reduce the art of the song to a national level, but rather led it beyond the
borders of his homeland into a multilingualism that is an aspect of mentality and soul-state rather than
of vocabulary. Here his predestined homelessness was a positive advantage, as well as the fact that
nationalismas limitation or as the exclusion of otherswas alien to his nature. When he wrote
Romanian songs he was Nicolae Bretan, when he set Hungarian texts his name was Bretan Mikls, and
when he immersed himself in the worlds of Lenau, Heine, or Rilke he signed his songs Nikolaus Bretan.
And thus he successfully accomplished two things: while he helped the category of song find its way
back home he also crossed boundaries with his music.
Musicology makes a distinction between the art song and the folk song. And yet the folk song can
be seen as one of our greatest artistic resources, though the name of its creator has usually been lost in
time, though it is considered the property of a particular nation, and though it reflects the qualities of a
particular language. For those reasons, most folk songs remain tied to their own ethnicity and are
generally unknown to the world beyond their area.
7

Because Bretan never resorted to affectation or flamboyance in the accompaniments of his songs,
his style has more in common with the folk song than with the late romantic art song that often
overwhelms the actual message of the poem with an extravagantly excessive accompaniment.
A major distinguishing feature of the art song is probably its accompaniment, which as a rule is
given to the piano, because that instrument offers the broadest range of possibilities and can even
approximate the sound of an orchestra. Whereas the folk song often manages without any
accompaniment at all, or with just a few simple chords, the accompaniment is an indispensable
component of the art song. It takes over a significant part of the communication and can in some
circumstancesas sometimes in the songs of Richard Straussassume an independent role for rather
long stretches at a time. The accompaniment of an art song, accordingly, is no longer replaceable. It is
a crucial element that determines the overall form of the song, along with the voice part.
Characteristics of both categories can frequently be found side by side in Bretans songs. They
often approach the simplicity and straightforwardness that are typical of the folk song. Their melodies
touch us as something long familiar, and they impress themselves upon us, like something that will not
leave our memory. And yet there is nowhere among them any quotation from a folk song, or any
folkloristic flourish, that might explain that impression. Rather there is often that crystallization of the
highest simplicity that is found in the songs of Mozart, Schubert, or Brahms.
In Bretans case there is scarcely a song that could do without its very special and individual
accompaniment. A Bretan song sung to the guitar as Brahms Lullaby could conceivably be sung,
is unthinkable. In their individual way, Bretans songs always join the transcendental distance of the
art song with the touching nearness of the folk song. Nicolae Bretan raised the folk song to the level
of the art song. And that sentence encloses its own reversal: Nicolae Bretan raised the art song to the
level of the folk song.
To understand that phenomenon we must revise two prejudices. The one maintains that the art song
is reserved for the cultured class, that it is international, but at the same time elitist. The other prejudice
assumes that folk songs are limited because they are bound within borders, because they are tied to the
language of a particular people, and therefore cannot be raised to the level of the universally human.
The phenomenon of Bretans case is that he could write songs that according to the laws of music
are pure works of art, songs that at the same time speak a language that ordinary people can understand,
that any people can understand. Bretan used the musical colour of his homeland, true: but he did not
verbalise it musically; rather he employed it only where the context of the text called for it. To this
extent it is important, after all, which language the multilingual Bretan set to music in his songs: when
he chose German poets such as Heine, Lenau, or Rilke he spoke a musical language that was completely
different from the idiom he used in setting poems by his own Hungarian or Romanian compatriots. But
in all cases he achieved the same miracle: he projected the limited forms of an individual language into
the limitless vastness of the human soul. Languagebe it Romanian, German or Hungarianwas for
him a lighthouse that showed the way home, and since he did not have one homeland, language was for
him a kind of anchor that one casts overboard somewhere or other, knowing that there will be no arrival.
8

Unde norii-i in popasul

n lca de mrgrint,
ede Domnul cu Smpetru
La o mas de argint.

Take your talent to the pearly house

Where clouds come to nest,
Where God and St. Peter sit
Chatting around a silvery table.

Tu s-i pleci uor genunchii

i uor s-i pleci grumazul,
i pe umerii vioarei
S-i apei domol obrazul.

Bend your knees a bit,

Shyly incline your head,
Then slide your cheek against
Your instrument's cool wood.

Povesti-va atunci struna

nlimilor albastre
Vremea lung ct jale
Scris-a-n sufletele noastre.

Let the four strings sing all

To the high blue vault,
Tell how the sorrow of passing years
Has etched us in pain.

i s cni un cntec, Laie,

Cum se cnt-n sat la noi,
Cnd se tnguie ciobanul
Dup turma lui de oi.

Let it rip, Laie,

Play as do our shepherds,
Trailing their flocks
With sorrowing flute.

S-ar ntuneca pmntul,

C-ar veni, veni, igane,
Toate stelele s-asculte
Glasul strunei nzdrvane.

When the stars flock to hear

Your strings speak in dulcet tone,
Earth will be darkened
As though in mourning.

Ni s-ar stinge-atunci necazul

Ce de mult ne petrecea:
ntre stelele de paz
Am avea i noi o stea!

This heavenly shower

Will extinguish the fire of our pain:
Among the celestial guardian stars,
One will light our way!

Blnd zmbire-ar Milostivul...

Iar din geana lui de-argint
Lacrim-ar cdea-n adncul
Norilor de mrgrint.

God will smile upon you

With dewy lightness;
From his silver eyelashes
Tears will drop through pearly clouds.

33

ON THE SAME LANE

13 PEACEEAI ULICIOAR
Mihai Eminescu

Unchanged in setting are the street and house of the

poetsbeloved; only sheand their love-affairare absent.
The lane remains as it was,
Through the window still shines the moon,
Only you, behind the shutter,
Will never show yourself to me.

Pe aceeai ulicioar
Bate luna n fereti,
Numai tu de dup gratii
Venic nu te mai iveti!

Within the curtains still moves the breeze

Today, as it did in days gone by,
Only you, behind those moving curtains,
Will never appear to me.

Vntul tremur-n perdele

Astzi ca i alte di,
Numai tu de dup ele
Venic nu te mai ari!

Ah, the same trees in full bloom

Spread their flowering across the fence,
It is only you who will not recreate
Today to be the past.

i aceiai pomi n floare

Crengi ntind peste zplaz,
Numai zilele trecute
Nu le faci s fie azi.

AT THE GRAVE OF LAIE

14 LAGROAPALUI LAIE
Octavian Goga

At the grave of a renowned fiddler, the poet prays that

the musician's heavenly concert will make God aware
of the Romanians' earthly suffering and persuade Him
to send them better fortune.

Therefore the motive of loneliness drifts through Bretans songs like a strain of eternal melancholy.
And besides it, again and again, the motive of death appears.
Bretan knew the language of words fails to express the most essential tings of all, and that only
music can cross the last threshold. That means, however, the conquest of loneliness. For the language
of song can even touch those who do not understand the words. Although Bretan was at home in each
language, he could also sense in each language its own special kind of loneliness. The conquest of that
loneliness is called music. That is why Bretan, basically, composed no Romanian songs, no Hungarian
or German songs. He knew only the song of the human soul, which is at home everywhere and which
everywhere is seeking its home. And that homeland does not lie between any national borders. When
Bretan wrote a song he was a citizen of the world, and he wrote an art song in which he helped himself
to the language of a certain people. So it is not surprising that his songs come close to the impressionism
of a Faur, or that they, on the other hand, may approach the acerbity of a Mussorgsky, or can capture
the mood of an evening folk song, or that they sometimes rise to a level of hymnic grandeur.
How shall this composer be grasped, this Bretan, who was no nationalist, who could write no folk
songs because there was no folk to which he really belonged, who could write no art song because he
was too multivarious to tie himself to any one type, who could not call any one language his mother
tongue other than the language of music. He spoke too many languages to have identified exclusively
with any one of them. His mother tongue was music, it was the language of his soul, and with it he
could communicate beyond all limitations and beyond all boundaries. And whoever is looking for the
direct, natural language of the human soul in a song will find the way to Nicolae Bretan and to his songs.
2007 Compiled from Hartmut Gagelmanns book
Translated by Beaumont Glass
Nicolae Bretan: His Life - His Music, Pendragon Press, USA, 2000

Today, when you leave for a better place,

I come to speak to you,
Niculaie, one-eyed Laie,
Fiddler of the four strings:

Am venit s-i spun o vorb

Azi, cind pleci n ri mai bune,
Niculaie, Laie Chioru,
Cntre din patru strune:

Pack with you your talent

Which inspired our reunions,
Maestro of nine villages,
Fiddler, one-eyed Laie.

Du-l cu tine meteugul

Care ne-ntrea soboru:
Metere a nou sate,
Lutare, Laie Chioru!

32

Compozitorul de lieduri

Operele lui Bretan, naintea tuturor epopeea popular Horia, pot fi considerate realizarea
principal, i totui liedul e cel care strbate ca un fir rou ntreaga sa via i creaie. n timp ce istoria
cristalizrii operelor are loc n mare msur n vremea activitii sale la cele dou teatre din Cluj,
compoziia de lieduri 1-a preocupat din tineree pn n anii si din urm. Bretan, care i-a descoperit
de timpuriu pasiunea pentru cntec, ncepnd imediat s caute modaliti de a-i forma vocea, a simit
totodat imboldul s se exprime i s se defineasc muzical n compoziii proprii de lieduri. Cu toate c
- sau tocmai pentru c - s-a folosit pentru aceasta de texte n diferite limbi, adevrata sa limb pare
muzica, i patria sa adevrat pare fi imperiul sunetelor. Cu titlul Mein Liederland - ara mea de
cntece i cu motto-ul: ,,Nu ntotdeauna provenim din ara n care ne-a stat leagnul, de aceea ne
cutm adevrata patrie din Theophile Gautier, pe care le-a pus naintea culegerii sale de lieduri, a
confirmat el nsui c liedul i-a fost n mod contient un eveniment central n via i creaie.
La nceput nu e clar unde se afl izvorul iniial al artei sale vocale i al compoziiilor sale. A fost
un cntre care a i compus sau a fost un compozitor care a i cntat? Prima presupunere ar fi o excepie
n istoria muzicii, cci prea puini cntrei, chiar i dintre cei mai mari, au simit nevoia ca, pe lng
activitatea lor de interprei, s aib i preocupri creatoare n msura n care aceasta este cazul la Nicolae
Bretan. Pentru el muzica, mai precis muzica vocal, era cea mai elementar manifestare de via, aa c
trebuia s-i gseasc drumul spre realizare n ambele direcii: n propriul cntat i n creaia unor lieduri
proprii. Nu e vorba aici aadar de combinaia fericit a dou talente, ci de dou feluri de manifestare a
unei unice i vehemente voine de exprimare. Omul creator i omul care cnt trebuie s fi fost identici
pentru Bretan. A tri i a cnta nsemnau pentru el unul i acelai lucru.
Dar indiferent de felul n care este privit relaia dintre cntreul i compozitorul Bretan,
liedurile sale sunt prin fiecare rnd al lor o dovad c ele au fost compuse pentru vocea uman de ctre
cineva care cunotea pn n strfunduri toate capacitile, dar i toate sensibilitile ei. Nu exist n
liedurile sale nici o singur fraz care s agreseze vocea uman, aa cum se ntmpl n compoziiile
vocale ale lui Beethoven sau n inveniile compozitorilor contemporani. La Bretan fiecare linie melodic
este potrivit vocii ca o hain, pentru a ne exprima cu cuvintele lui Leopold Mozart, tatl lui Amadeus.
Ce nseamn aceasta, se poate cuprinde - mai nainte de a vorbi despre liedurile sale - n pagina negativ
a bilanului: nu exist la Bretan pasaje dumnoase vocii, cu combinaii artistice de srituri sau un cntat
ndelungat ntr-o poziie de trecere sau apariii repetate ale unor situaii extreme (fie n nlime, fie n
adncime); acestea sunt folosite doar cnd vrea s obin un efect deosebit, de exemplu n Arald.
Liedurile sale vin ntotdeauna n ntmpinarea vocii omeneti, desigur a vocii formate. Liedurile sale nu
trebuie cntate, ele vor s fie cntate, n esen, acesta este cel mai mare compliment care i se poate
face acestui lied.
n acest caz e vorba de un compendiu de peste 200 de lieduri. Doar culegerea ara mea de
cntece conine 218 lieduri, dintre care 90 au fost compuse pe texte romneti, 70 ungureti, 50 pe
germane. Opt alte compoziii se folosesc de limba latin.
10

11 O, VIN PE MARE

COME DOWN TO THE SEA

Mihai Eminescu

The poet and his beloved are lost in love's trance as they
sail alone beneath a starry sky.

O, vin pe marea ce o cuprinde

Un cer nalt cu stele plin
i vntul serii va ntinde
Aluntrei pnz n senin.
Cu a tale reci i albe brae
Tu la grumazu-mi s rmi...
i luna-i bate drept n fa,
i caz prul la clci.
M voi pleca ncet spre tine
S-i beau tot sufletul iubit
C-o lung, lung srutare
Uimit, fr de sfrit.

Come down to the sea which holds

Ahigh wide sky studded with stars,
Blowing so softly, the night wind
Softly fills our boat's sails.
In this serenity, anchor my head
In your cool white arms...
Let moonlight envelop your face,
As your hair falls below your waist.
Slowly I will bend myself toward you,
Drinking your beloved soul
In a kiss so long and unending
That we will be lost in wonder.

12 LUN, LUN, STEAVICLEAN

Octavian Goga

MOON, MOON, YOU WILY STAR

A village boy scolds the moon who saw him kiss his
girl, and who told the stars, who in turn told the wind,
so that his whole village learned his secret.

Lun, lun, stea viclean,

Neam de fire de vdan,
De ce dorurile mele
Spusu-le-ai la stele?

Moon, moon, you wily star,

Deceitful descendant of widows,
How could you have betrayed
My secret to the stars?

Stelele, sus cltoare,

Fete mari, clevetitoare,
Mi-au dus vntului oftatul
i m tie satul.

The stars who twinkle in and out,

Grown girls who only live for gossip,
They shared my sigh, then told it to the wind,
So now my whole village spies me out.

31

Saint Friday bent over the dead one

To close her eyes with a kiss.
"You leave with the cherished thought
That you will at long last see him!
Oh human being, you are cheated
In all you believe!

i sfnta Vineri s-a plecat

Spre moart-apoi, i-a srutat
nchiii ochi: - Te deprtezi
Cu dragul gnd, c ai s-l vezi!
Oh, omule, eti nelat
n toate cte crezi!

"Your narrow and painful road

Is constant striving toward an ideal,
An ideal that is only illusion.
All that you search after is but dream.
It is God who dictates your destiny,
It is God alone who decrees your fate."

A ta e mergerea mereu
Spre int - drum ngust i greu Dar inta niciodat nu-i
A ta! i-n gnd tu tot ce-i pui
E numai vis, cci Dumnezeu
Te poart-n voia Lui!

10 N FEREASTRADINSPRE MARE

AT THE WINDOW ON THE SEA

Mihai Eminescu

A fisherman falls in love with the king's daughter

whose face is reflected in the sea, and is drawn by
love deeper and deeper into the waves.

n fereastra dinspre mare

St copila cea de crai...
Fundul mrii, fundul mrii
Fur chipul ei blai.

At the window on the sea

Sits the king's daughter...
The depths of the ocean
Steal her fair, fabled face.

Iar pescaru' trece-n luntre

i n ape venic cat...
Fundul mrii, fundul mrii
Ah! De mult un chip i-arat.

Afisherman passing in his boat

Peers constantly into the waves...
The depths of the ocean
Cast up a constant image.

Spre castel vr-odat ochii

N-am ntors i totui plng...
Fundul mrii, fundul mrii
M atrage n adnc.

Never have my eyes once wandered

Toward the castle, yet I weep...
The depths of the ocean
Pull me toward depths more deep.

30

La acest mare numr de titluri surprinde mai nti faptul c Bretan a avut i o anumit preferin
pentru unii poei, crora le-a i rmas credincios. n cazul celor romni, pe lng Eminescu, pe locul nti
se afl Goga, Eftimiu i Cobuc, n timp ce dintre cei maghiari, Ady e poetul favorit al compozitorului,
dei recurge n repetate rnduri i la Petofi. Dintre poeii germani apar tot mereu numele lui Heine i
Lenau, iar mai trziu Rilke. i n toate trei limbile apare, bineneles, i poetul Bretan. Dei mai sunt i
alte nume, compozitorul Bretan a cutat n poezii o anumit atmosfer, pe care dorea s-o transpun n
tonuri. E vorba de o lume anume, care 1-a atras mereu, creia i-a dat tot timpul trcoale i care 1-a dus
tot mereu la aceiai poei.
Cuvntul vrjit prin care lumea este transformat n cntec nu poate fi gsit, cu siguran, n nici
un dicionar. Totui arta care, n toat lumea i depind orice grani, poate comunica anumite lucruri
care nu pot fi exprimate prin cuvinte e aceea a sunetelor, e muzica, iar forma ei cea mai simpl i cea
mai frumoas este liedul, n mod ciudat, muzicologia face deosebire ntre cntecul cult i cntecul
popular. Dar, dac judecm bine, cntul popular e una din cele mai mari realizri ale expresiei umane,
doar dac creatorul lui nu poare fi identificat, fiind considerat proprietate a unui anumit popor,
caracterizat prin limba sa. De aceea i rmne cntul popular, de obicei, n snul poporului su, fiind legat
de naiunea sa i fiind, n mod normal, necunoscut peste granie.
Cntecul cult, dimpotriv, se ridic pe o platform general valabil, n care coninutul textual i
enunul muzical nu mai sunt legate de evenimente i forme muzicale cu colorit local, n legtur cu
compozitorul Bretan, liedurile sale afirm urmtoarele: a fost n stare s exprime esenialul, fcnd
aceasta, aparent, cu cel mai mic efort. El unete cerinele care se impun att unui cntec popular, ct i
unuia cult: evit orice balast decorativ, deci nenecesar, exprimnd esenialul n forma sa cea mai pur.
Tocmai pentru c Bretan renun la orice decor i suprancrcare n acompaniamentul liedurilor sale, el
se afl mai aproape de cntecul popular dect romanticii trzii, care au acoperit printr-un
acompaniament supradimensionat adevratul enun al poeziilor.
Pentru a-l nelege ns pe deplin pe Bretan, ar trebui definite nc o dat noiunile de cntec
popular i cntec cult, pentru ca ceea ce au n comun i ceea ce deosebete cele dou subgenuri
muzicale s ne ofere posibilitatea unei orientri n creaia de lieduri a lui Bretan.
Se pune ntrebarea n ce const, de fapt, diferena dintre cntecul popular i cel cult. Cu siguran
c, n desvrirea sa simpl, cntecul popular e o oper artistic, nepurtnd ns isclitura unui
compozitor, chiar dac, probabil, exist vreunul, acesta intrnd n anonimat n spatele operei sale. O
caracteristic esenial a cntecului popular este n primul rnd cantabilitatea sa. n mod normal, el nu
depete cuprinderea unei octave, fiind uor de reinut din cauza configuraiei sale. Doar prin aceast
form poate el deveni comun celor care cnt, acetia neavnd o educaie de cntre, iar memoria lor
muzical dnd gre n cazul unei succesiuni complicate de note.
Dar aceste caracteristici ale cntecului popular nu constituie criterii care s-l deosebeasc de cel
cult. n acest sens avem exemple de nenumrate cntece culte, care datorit simplitii i cantabilitii
lor au aproape caracter de cntec popular, putnd deveni cntece populare. Cele mai renumite exemple
sunt Veilchen (Vioreaua) i Komm lieber Mai (Vino, iubit lun mai) de Mozart sau
11

Heidenrslein (Floarea de rsur) i Am Brunnen vor dem Tore (La fntna din faa porii) de
Schubert, chiar i Guten Abend, gute Nacht (Bun seara, noapte bun) de Brahms, devenind bun
comun. Cntece ca acestea le sunt cunoscute multor oameni, fiind cntate de ctre ei i transmise
copiilor lor, fr s-i fi dat vreodat seama cine le-a compus.
Simplitatea, naturaleea i cantabilitatea nu sunt, aadar, caracteristici care difereniaz n mod
obligatoriu cntecul popular de cel cult. Dac un cntec se ridic ns pe acea treapt care presupune o
educaie muzical pentru a corespunde preteniilor impuse vocii, el pierde posibilitatea de a deveni
cntec popular. O amploare prea mare, srituri complicate de intervale sau figuri rapide, artistice,
adic figuri care cer dexteritate artistic, nu pot fi interpretate de ctre laici, acetia neputndu-le nici
executa nici memora. Datorit acestor rigori cntecul cult rmne rezervat podiumului de concert,
negsindu-i intrarea n creaia popular.
O caracteristic a cntecului cult este, n orice caz, acompaniamentul, care de regul este lsat
pe seama pianului, fiindc acest instrument ofer cele mai mari posibiliti, putnd ajunge pn la un
sunet orchestral. n timp ce cntecul popular se descurc chiar i fr acompaniament sau poate fi
susinut fie i doar de acorduri simple, acompaniamentul devine n cazul liedului o parte component
indispensabil. El preia o mare parte din enun, putnd deveni - n anume condiii, ca de exemplu la
Richard Strauss - independent pe o ntindere destul de mare. Acompaniamentul n cazul liedului nu
poate fi, aadar, substituit, el este o parte constitutiv hotrtoare, contribuind la realizarea ntregului.
La Nicolae Bretan cele dou situaii se afl adesea alturi. Liedurile sale trdeaz mereu cu
limpezime c el a fost cntre - ele fiind croite pe trupul vocii omeneti. Totui ele pstreaz adeseori,
n ciuda preteniilor impuse vocii, o simplitate i o liniaritate care se apropie de cele ale cntecului
popular. Adic: melodiile lor par ceva de mult cunoscut, imprimndu-se n memoria auditiv ca ceva care
nu-i mai d drumul. i aceasta, cu toate c nici unde nu poate fi gsit un citat din vreun cntec popular
sau vreo nfloritur folcloric care s poat explica aceast impresie. Ba dimpotriv, adeseori apare acea
cristalizare spre cea mai mare simplicitate care surprinde i n lieduri de Mozart, Schubert sau Brahms.
n orice caz, la Bretan nu exist nici mcar un lied care s poat renuna la acompaniamentul su
deosebit i care-i este caracteristic. Un Bretan cntat la chitar, lucru care poate fi imaginat n cazul
nocturnei lui Brahms, este de neconceput. Prin aceast caracteristic deosebit liedurile lui Bretan unesc
mereu deprtarea transcendental a cntecului cult i nduiotoarea apropiere a cntecului popular.
Nicolae Bretan a ridicat cntecul popular la nlimea liedului. Iar aceast propoziie include n
ea i reversul ei: Nicolae Bretan a ridicat liedul la nlimea cntecului popular.
Pentru a nelege acest fenomen trebuie revzute dou prejudeci. Una este aceea care susine
c liedul este apanajul unei pturi culte, fiind internaional, dar fiind n acelai timp i elitist. Cealalt
prejudecat susine c orice cntec popular este limitat, cci este legat de anumite granie, fiind cuplat
la limba unui popor, aa c nu se poate ridica la un nivel general-uman.
Semnificativ la Bretan este tocmai faptul c a putut scrie lieduri care, din punctul de vedere
al legilor muzicale, sunt adevrate capodopere, care ns vorbesc, concomitent, o limb pe care
poporul o poate nelege, o limb pe care orice popor o poate nelege.
12

Veni atunci din rsrit,

Pe drum o bab. S-a oprit,
Cci auzise la izvor
Gemut ca de cretini cnd mor i capul fetei l-a proptit
n poala ei uor.

Then, on the road from the East

There came an ancient woman
Who stopped at the spring by the sound
Of a Christian's expiring soul.
The ancient one bent down and gently cradled
The maiden's head in her lap.

Iar sfnta Vineri o privea

Cu mil, - Uite! - zise ea Un veac de om tu ateptnd
Robit-ai fost de-un singur gnd De-ai fi tiut tu, draga mea,
Acestea mai curnd!

And Saint Friday looked upon her with pity.

"Can you not see what you have done?
You have passed a lifetime waiting,
Blinded by your one obsessive thought!
Oh, my dear, if only you had known
What now I do impart!

"I cry out in too much pain:

I am ready to depart,
And I have not seen him even one more time.
Oh, what a bitter thought that is!
But up there, in that heavenly land into which I pass,
He will belong only to me."

- De jale plng... Nu pot s-nec

Amarul gnd c, iat, plec
i n-am putut s-l vd mcar
O dat! Ah, e gnd amar!
Dar sus, n lumea-n care trec,
Al meu va fi el iar!

"He has forgotten your eyes!

Long ago, he went home on different roads,
For that was his ordained destiny.
He returned long ago and married.
His sons now have their sons.
He is the Emperor Negura."

El i-a uitat de ochii ti!

De mult s-a-ntors pe alte ci,
Cci lui menire i s-a dat S-a-ntors de mult i s-a-nsurat;
Flcii lui au ali flci:
E Negur-mprat.

Three times sighed the dying maid

From the inner depths of her soul,
Then, silence for eternity!
"From this world you enter another world
And do not know, harassed creature,
The world into which you pass."

A fost un gemet ntreit

Din totul inimii pornit
i-apoi o linite de veci!
- Din lumea asta ntr-alta treci.
i nici nu tii, tu, om trudit,
Ce-i lumea-n care pleci!

29

Pe unde-i el? Nu s-a gtit

De-ajuns acum pentru nuntit?
O, nu! Pentr-un alai domnesc
Attea lucruri trebuiesc
i-atta vreme! N-a venit
C-i tnr i-l gtesc!

"Where can he be? Where can he be?

Didn't he prepare for his wedding?
Oh no! For such a grand court wedding
Much preparation is needed, and much time!
He didn't come because he is young
And is being instructed, being groomed."

IV
Pe-atunci erau vlstari n lunci
Copacii de-azi, i tineri prunci
Erau brbaii. Colo-n sat
Copile mici; ea le-a purtat
Pe brae, i e mult de-atunci,
De mult s-au mritat!

By now, yesterday's saplings

Are today's trees. By now,
Yesterday's boys are grown men.
Small daughters of the village
Who were cradled in her arms,
By now long since are married.

Acum pe crje s proptea!

N-avea puteri, i tot venea.
- Pe aici, pe-aici, e drumul lui...
E noapte-acum... ba nc nu-i...
L-am ateptat: att a vrea
S pot de-acum s-i spui!

By now she held herself on a crutch,

She lacked the strength, but still she came.
"Here, here is his road... Has night fallen?...
No, not yet... I waited for him
That is all I wish, all I wish,
To be able to tell him now!"

Dar ntr-o sear ea simi

C azi e cea din urm zi:
Ori vine azi de undeva
Iubitul ei i-o va lua,
Ori dac nu, cnd va veni
El n-o va mai afla.

But one evening she told herself

That this was the very last day.
Either her lover would come
From somewhere and take her,
Or else, when he came at last,
He would not, would not find her.

i n-a venit! Nici n-a-ncercat

S se ridice de-unde-a stat
Srmana, cci de-ajuns simea
C-n veci de-acum nu va putea
S plece, nu, i nemicat
Sta frnt, i murea.

And he did not, did not come.

And the sorry creature did not even try
To lift herself from where she lay
Because she felt she could never leave,
Fixed there without movement,
As if crucified by death.

28

Bretan a folosit de fapt coloritul muzical al patriei sale, dar nu l-a verbalizat muzical, folosindul doar acolo unde o impunea coninutul textual. De aceea e i att de important ce fel de limb a folosit
n diferite lieduri multilingvul Bretan. Cnd a ales autori germani ca Heine, Lenau sau Rilke a vorbit o
cu totul alt limb muzical dect atunci cnd a selectat poezii ungureti sau romneti ale compatrioilor
si - romni sau unguri. Dar n fiecare caz i-a reuit aceeai minune: a trecut de la forma limitat a unei
limbi anume n necuprinderea sufletului omenesc. Limba - fie c e romn, german sau maghiar este pentru el doar un far care indic drumul spre patrie, iar pentru c el n-a avut aceast patrie, limba
a fost pentru el doar forma unei ancore, pe care o arunci undeva, tiind de la bun nceput c nu exist o
sosire la el.
Tocmai de aceea, prin toate liedurile lui Bretan strbate, ca venic durere subteran, motivul
singurtii. i lng acesta apare tot mereu i motivul morii.
Bretan a tiut c limba exprimat prin cuvinte d gre n faa lucrurilor eseniale, doar muzica
fiind n stare s peasc peste ultimul prag. Aceasta nseamn insa i depirea singurtii. Cci
limbajul muzicii l poate impresiona i pe cel care nu nelege cuvintele unei limbi strine lui. Cu toate
c Bretan s-a simit acas n spaiul oricrei limbi pe care a cunoscut-o, a simit, totodat, i solitudinea
particular a fiecrei limbi. Depirea acestei izolri se cneam muzic. De aceea, de fapt, Bretan n-a
scris cantece romanesti, unguresti sau germane. El n-a cunoscut decat cantecul sufletului omenesc, care
e oriunde acasa, cautandu-si peste tot patria. Iar aceasta patrie nu este ferecata intre niste granite
nationale. Attunci cand Bretan a scris un lied, o facea in calitate de exponent al unei spiritualitati umane
generale, scriindu-l insa se folosea de limba unui anumit popor. Asa ca surprinde ca liedurile sale se
apropie de impresionismul francezului Faure, putand ajunge insa si la amaraciunea unui Mussorgsky si
ca surprind ceva din atmosfera unui cant popular de seara sau urca spre emfaza caracteristica imnului.
Oare cum il putem cuprinde pe acest Bretan care, neavand un singur popor din care sa faca cu
adevarat parte, n-a putut scrie cantece populare, care n-a putut scrie cantece culte specifice unei singure
natiuni, el fiind prea cuprinzator de a se fi putut lega de una singura, care, vorbind prea multe limbi, na putut sa denumeasca nici una ca limba sa materna, in afar de cea a muzicii. Limba sa materna a fost
muzica ea a tost limba sufletului sau, cu care a putut vorbi dincolo de toate granitele. Iar cel care cauta
in muzica limbajul nemijlocit si lipsit de artificii al sufletului omenesc va ajunge sa-l descopere pe
Bretan si liedurile sale.
Compilat din cartea lui Hartmut Gagelmann, tradus de Petru Forna:
Nicolae Bretan
Liedurile sale, Operele lui, Viaa sa
Tipoholding, Romnia, 2005

13

1 I DAC RAMURI BAT N GEAM

AND IF BRANCHES BEATAGAINST

THE WINDOW

Mihai Eminescu

All that is beautiful-swaying poplars, stars reflected

in the water, the moon drifting through dense cloud
exists only to remind the poet of his beloved.

i dac ramuri bat n geam

i se cutremur plopii,
E ca n minte s te am
i-ncet s te apropii.

And if branches beat against the window,

And if poplars suddenly quiver,
It is only to call you to mind,
To have you approach me slowly.

i dac stele bat n lac

Adncu-i luminndu-l,
E ca durerea mea s-o-mpac
Inseninndu-mi gndul.

And if stars cut through the lake

To shine from those depths,
It is only to soothe my sorrow,
To turn my thoughts to silence.

i dac norii dei se duc,

De iese-n luciu luna,
E ca aminte s-mi aduc
De tine-ntotdeauna.

And if dense clouds drift away

To let the moon illuminate the sky,
It is only to remind me of you
Throughout eternity.

III
Auzi! ca valuri dup val
Nvalnic tropotit de cal!
i sun vile-ndrzne,
O, sta e voinic drume!
i-n zarea lunei vezi pe mal
Un tnr clre?

Listen! Like waves upon waves

The echoing valley resounds
With thundering gallop.
Illuminated by the moon,
A handsome traveler appears,
A young man on horseback.

Dar ah, ct m-ai lsat s-atept!

Dar unde-ai fost? O, spune drept!
De-acum tu nu vei mai pleca,
S-i lai plngnd iubita ta:
O, vino, strnge-m la piept...
Ce bine mi-e aa!

"Oh, how long have you kept me waiting!

Tell me where you have been,
Tell me the truth, tell me the truth.
Henceforth, you will not leave
Your beloved crying. Hold me
To your chest... How good this is!

"Sweet eyes, so long absent!"

"You told me to wait for you here-And it is here you find me!"
"But look at you. How wan you appear!"
"I knew that you would come,
I knew that I was the one you loved!"

- Ochi dragi, de-atta timp pustii!

Mi-ai zis plecnd: aici s fii,
i-aici, aici tu m gseti!
Dar uite, obosit ce eti!
tiam eu doar c ai s vii
tiam c m iubeti!

"You do not ask me how I cried?

How can I gather into words
The wanderings of my thought?
How can I begin?... Give me strength!
How beautiful you are, how good;
How much I love you!"

i nu m-ntrebi, ce plns nebun

Am plns de-atunci? O, cum s-adun
n vorbe-atta gnd pribeag,
i cum s-ncep... O, d-mi toiag!
O, ct eti de frumos i bun
i ct mi eti de drag!

But her longed-for rider did not appear!

At dawn she intercepted travelers on their way,
Laughing loudly she recounted her story,
Then burst into tears, into tears.
They had seen him, but they did not wish
To reveal what had befallen him.

Dar n-a venit!... i ea cu zor

Oprea din drum pe cltor,
Rznd cu hohot i spunea
Povestea ei; apoi plngea:
Ei l-au vzut, dar ei nu vor
S-i spuie ce fcea?

14

27

- Dar totui, azi el va veni...

Nici azi nu vine... unde-o fi?
Dar mine va veni! tiu eu,
C-mi spune inima! i-al meu,
Al meu de-acum n veci va fi;
Ce bun e Dumnezeu!

"He must come today,

But today, again, he did not come.
Where could he be? He must come tomorrow!
I know because my heart tells me so.
He will be mine throughout eternity;
How good God is! How good God is!"

Tu, vnt de sear,-n calea ta

Nu l-ai vzut venind cumva?
i nici tu, nor, nu l-ai vzut
Prin multe lumi cte-ai trecut?
S-i spui, te rog, de-l vei afla
C-l plng i c-l srut!

"Winds of evening, did you not

Pass him along the road?
Clouds, have you not seen him
In the many countries over which you glide?
If you find him, tell him for me
That I yearn for him, that I kiss him.

S-i spui c florile din strat

Le ud i cresc mai rvrsat,
Dar florile-pe-obrazul meu
Plesc, c prea le ud mereu;
i cte-amaruri am rbdat
tiu, biata, numai eu!

"Tell him that the roses in the village

That I water bloom more richly,
But the roses in my cheeks grow pale
Because I water them constantly.
How much bitterness must I endure,
Alas, only I can know!

C pentru dnsul, c-l iubesc,

Prinii-n drum m ocolesc
i m-au gonit din casa lor;
C toi ai mei azi nu m vor!
Snt singur, pe ci triesc,
Sunt singur, i mor!

"Because I love him so,

My parents avoid me on the road
And have cast me from my home.
My family does not want me,
I am alone, I live on the roads.
I am alone, and near death!"

Treceau drumei pe lng ea,

optind, dar fata nu-i vedea.
Treceau i zilele zburnd,
Treceau i luni, treceau pe rnd,
Treceau i ani, ei nu-i trecea
Rbdarea, ateptnd.

CUCKOO, WHY DONTYOU RETURN?

2 CUCULE, DE CE NU VII?

Carolina Bretan, mama compozitorului

A call to the beloved, who, unlike the rest of nature, refuses

to return.

Cuckoo why don't you return

Over forests and vineyards?
The proud forest is flush with leaves,
You alone will not return.

Cucule, de ce nu vii
Preste codrii, preste vii?
Codru mndru a-nfrunzit,
Tu n-ai gndu de venit.

Come, cuckoo, come to the spring

And there sing to me, for I yearn!
Come to the valley and sing to me,
For my heart is heavy with longing!

Vino cuce la isvor

i-mi cnt c mult mi-e dor!
Vino cuce la vlcele
i-mi cnt c mult mi-e jele!

The poor forest trails its leaves,

Back home flies the swallow,
The vineyards lie wilted,
You alone will not return.

Bietul codru frunza-i las,

Rndunica zboar-acas,
Viile s-au vetejit,
Tu n-ai gndu de venit.

Travelers passed by her, whispering,

But the maid did not see them.
Days flew by, months flew by,
Years and years flew by.
But she waited for her traveler.
Only her patience remained.

26

15

3 READE PLAT

THE RELUCTANT DEBT PAYER

George Cobuc

A pretty vixen cheats the poet of his payment of kisses for

carrying her heavy sack.

Ea vine dela moar

i jos n ulicioar
Punndu-i sacul, iac
Nu-l poate ridica.

She comes down the lane

From the mill,
Sets her sack down
And cannot lift it.

"i-l duc eu!" "Cum?" "Pe plat!"

Iar ea, cuminte fat,
Se i-nvoete-ndat,
De ce-ar i zice ba?

"I'll carry it for you!"

"In exchange for what?" "Payment!"
And she, pretty vixen, immediately agrees,
Why should she refuse?

Eu plec cu sacu-n spate;

La calea jumtate,
Cer plata, trei sruturi.
Dar uite, felul ei:
St-n drum i se socoate,
i-mi spune cte-toate,
C-s scump, c ea nu poate,
C prea sunt multe trei!

I go with the sack on my back;

Halfway there I ask payment: three kisses.
But look at her manner!
She stops there to calculate,
To invent every excuse under the sun:
That I am too expensive,
That she cannot agree,
That three kisses are too many!

Cu dou se-nvoete
i unul mi-l pltete,
Cu altul s-mi rmie
Datoare pe-nsrat.
Dar n-am s-l vd
Ct veacul!
i iat-m, sracul,
S-i duc o potie sacul
P-un singur srutat!

She agrees to two

And pays me one,
The second to be owed to me
Until this evening.
But I will not see it,
Not in eternity!
Look at me, cheated dunce that I am,
To carry her sack such a long way
For just one kiss!

16

Then he rode off quickly on his horse.

There was such yearning in his voice!
He was young, handsome and
As slender as if drawn through a needle.
The maid's eyes remained upon him,
And with him went her heart.

Apoi plec n grabnic pas...

Avea atta dor n glas!
Era voinic i tinerel,
nalt i tras ca prin inel:
De-atunci i ochii i-au rmas
i inima la el.
II
i fata de-mprat veni
i-a doua zi, i-a treia zi,
i-n toate zilele pe rnd,
ncete clipe numrnd,
Tot atepta doar o veni
Flcul mai curnd.

The daughter of the emperor came

On the second day and on the third
And on all the days that followed,
Counting slow seconds, waiting.
Perhaps very soon, very soon,
Her young man would appear.
Quick suns rose and set
And still the maid remained.
She came at night as well
Over dark, wet valley paths.
Only very late in the night
Did her slow steps take her home.

Grbitul soare scpta,

i fata tot acolo sta;
i noaptea umed din vi
Venea pe-ntunecate ci;
Trziu n noapte-abia pleca
i fata la ai si.

"He might be ill, he might have died!

O God, he should have come by now,
So much time has passed! So much!"
Fed by forebodings, by premonitions,
Her ever-increasing yearnings
Grew steadfastly more and more.

O fi bolnav! O fi murit!
O, Doamne, el ar fi venit
De-atta timp! mai tiu i eu!
i doru-i plngtor mereu
Cretea de presimiri hrnit,
Din ce n ce mai greu.

Summer full-blown had passed

And melancholy autumn went by,
The snows of winter fell upon the valleys,
Once more the flowering cherry appeared.
But not the royal maid's beloved,
Her greatly desired traveler.

Trecu i vara, i trecu

i toamna, i pe vi czu
Zpada iernii, i-apoi iar
Sosi-nfloritul Cirear Dar nici acum voinicul nu,
Doritul ei drumar!

25

9 IDEAL

ILLUSION

George Cobuc

The saga of a maiden wasting her life waiting in

vain for a lover who will never appear, illustrates
how our deepest human yearnings are fragmented
dreams which a higher power refuses to make real.

Venise fata de-mprat

Cu alte fete pe-nserat
S-aduc ap din izvor Din zri un tnr cltor,
Sosind pe-acolo, s-a rugat
S bea din cana lor.

The daughter of the emperor,

With her companions, came at dusk
To draw water from the spring.
Appearing over the horizon,
A young horseman asked her
If he might drink from her pitcher.

Iar fata de-mprat i-a dus

Cofia ei; i cnd i-a spus
Flcul cel dinti cuvnt,
Ea s uit speriat-n vnt,
i ca certat-apoi i-a pus
Privirile-n pmnt.

The daughter of the emperor

Gave the horseman her pitcher;
When the young man addressed her,
She turned her frightened head
Toward the evening breeze and,
As if scolded, cast eyes downward.

- A vrea, ca i la-ntorsul meu,

S fii aici s-mi dai s beu
Iar ea, tot nemicat stnd
Cu ochii-n jos, i tremurnd
De lupta ei, trziu i greu
Rosti sfioas: - Cnd?

"Upon my return, I would like

To see you here once more
And once more give me water."
Still not moving, with eyes downcast,
Trembling from turmoil within,
She said shyly and hesitantly: "When?"

- i mine poate... Mai trziu...

Ori peste-un an! Nici eu nu tiu.
Sunt fiu de crai. Crarea mea
Pe-aici va fi... Ne vom vedea:
De-acum iubitul tu s fiu,
Iar tu iubita mea.

"Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps after that.

Perhaps, after a year! I myself know not.
I am an emperor's son. My road will bring
Me here again. Again we will see each other.
From this moment forth, I shall be
Your eternal sweetheart, and you mine."

24

YOU WERE SUCH A KNUCKLEHEAD!

4 NU TE-AI PRICEPUT!
George Cobuc

Angry and hurt, a girl reproaches a former suitor

for having failed to sense her love for him and for
not having pursued her forthrightly.

You were such a knucklehead!

You say you were the only one I didnt want,
That I was always trying to get away from you?
Thats plain crazy, Sorin!
I know damn well you loved me,
But you were too scared to say so.
I tried every trick under the sun
To get you to ask me:
Dont you want me, honey?
And I cried and screamed
That you were such a knucklehead!

Nu te-ai priceput!
Singur tu nu mi-ai plcut,
C eu tot fugeam de tine?
O, nu-i drept, nu-i drept, Sorine!
i-am fost drag, tiu eu bine,
Dar s-mi spui, tu te-ai temut.
i eu toate le-am fcut
Ca s poi s-mi spui odat,
S m-ntrebi: M vrei tu, fat?
i plngeam de suprat,
C tu nu te-ai priceput!

You were such a knucklehead!

You say I kept putting you down
And didnt let you have your say?
What do you know?
I walked all over: roads, valleys, hill,
Anywhere I thought I might meet you.
How many long days I shot
Trying to get close to you!
You held back, Sorin,
And it killed me
That you were such a knucklehead!

Nu te-ai priceput!
Zici c-s mndr i n-am vrut
Ca s-ascult vorbele tale?
Dar de unde tii? n cale
Ti-am umblat i-n deal i-n vale,
i-oriiunde te-am tiut.
Zile lungi mi le-am pierdut,
S m-mprietenesc cu tine;
Tu-mi umblai sfios, Sorine,
i plngea durerea-n mine,
C tu nu te-ai priceput!

17

Nu te-ai priceput!
Am fost rea i n-a fi vrut
S te las, ca alt fat,
S m strngi tu srutat?
Dar m-ai ntrebat vr-odat?
M-nvingea s te srut
Eu pe tine! Pe-ntrecut
Chip ctam cu viclenie
S te fac s-ntrebi, i mie
Mi-a fost luni ntregi mnie
C tu nu te-ai priceput!

You were such a knucklehead!

So I played the bitch, was that it?
And didnt let you hug and kiss me
Like a nice girl would?
But did you ever think of asking me?
I was literally dying
To kiss you. I tried
Every conceivable trick I knew
To get you to pop the question.
Months on end I was beside myself with anger,
That you could be such a knucklehead!

Nu te-ai priceput!
Zici c, de m-ai fi cerut
Mamei tale nor-n cas,
N-a fi vrut s merg? Ei las!
C de-o fat cui-i pas,
Nu se ia dup prut!
De-ntrebai, ai fi vzut!
Tu s fi-nceput iubitul,
C-i fceam eu isprvitul!
Tu cu pnea i cuitul
Mori flmnd, nepriceput!

You were such a knucklehead!

You say that if you had asked me
To become your mothers daughter-in-law,
That I would have said: Youve got to be kidding!
Come off it. If you really go for a girl,
Youre not taken in by appearances.
If you had asked me, youd have found out all right.
It was up to you to take the first step,
Since the last step is supposed to be mine.
There you stand, with your knife and loaf of bread
And die of hunger, knucklehead!

18

GAZEL

8 GAZEL

George Cosbuc

The torment of young love is to be driven into a

self-conscious, self-torturing privacy that fears
what it most wants.

People taunt me
That I am young and in love.
You told me to meet you
At the mill this evening,
But I'd meet my friends there
And have to hide from them.

Oamenii m-nvinuesc,
C sunt tnr i iubesc.
Tu mi-ai zis s vin la moar
Pe-nsrat, s te-ntlnesc,
Dar la moar dau de prieteni
i de prieteni m feresc.

I saw you yesterday on the road,

But was afraid to stop you,
Embarrassed by what my mother would say,
Embarrassed by you as well.

Te-am vzut i eri pe o cale,

M-am temut s te opresc.
C de mama mi-e ruine
i de tine m sfiesc.

I resent the whole world,

I'm angry at being alive:
I want to leave you but it hurts too much,
I want to love you but I don't dare.

Mi-e necaz pe toat lumea

i mi-e ciud c tresc:
Te-a lsa i mi-e cu jale,
Te-a iubi i nu-ndrsnesc.

23

IN LUXEMBURG GARDENS

5 N PARCULLUXEMBURG
Focul e-n-vlit pe vatr,
Iar opaiele-au murit;
i prin satul adormit
Doar vrun cne-n somn mai latr
Rguit.

Fires are banked in the hearth,

Candles have died;
Within the slumbering village
Adog barks hoarsely in sleep.

Iat-o! Plin, despre munte

Iese luna din brdet
i se-nal-n-cet, ncet,
Gnditoare ca o frunte
De poet.

Behold the full moon, gliding out

From the pine forest,
Slowly, slowly ascending,
As thoughtful as a poet's forehead.

Ca un glas domol de clopot

Sun codrii mari de brad,
Ritmic valurile cad,
Cum se zbate-n dulce ropot
Apa-n vad.

The tall pine forest whispers

With bell-like gentle voice;
Rhythmically, the waves rise and fall
As the water swirls in sweet cadenza.

Dintr-un timp i vntul tace:

Satul doarme ca-n mormnt;
Totu-i plin de duhul sfnt:
Linite-n vzduh i pace
Pe pmnt.

In time, the wind too falls silent,

The village sleeps as in a grave,
The air is filled with a sacred spirit:
There is silence above, and peace on earth.

Numai dorul mai colind,

Dorul tnr i pribeag.
Tainic se-n tlnete-n prag,
Dor cu dor s se cuprind,
Drag cu drag.

Victor Eftimiu

In the quiet, stately Gardens of Luxemburg past memories

collect and drift like falling autumn leaves.

Floating through the gardens, My Lady,

Is the sad perfume of years,
Leaves of the plane trees fall,
In Luxemburg Gardens it is autumn.

n parc plutete, Doamn,

Parfumul trist al anilor,
Cad frunzele platanilor,
n Luxemburg e toamn.

Lightly a cloud of pigeons

Glides upon the silence
Of the hushed, quiet arbors,
Upon the leaves that are dying.

Alunec uor
Grmada porumbeilor
Pe linitea aleilor,
Pe frunzele ce mor.

Incense of freshly cut grass

Rises in refrain
Toward the statue of
The old and good Verlaine.

Ca un duios refren,
Se-nal smirna fnului
Spre statuia btrnului
i bunului Verlaine.

Floating through the gardens, My Lady,

Is the sad perfume of years,
Leaves of the plane trees fall,
In Luxemburg Gardens it is autumn.

n parc plutete, Doamn,

Parfumul trist al anilor,
Cad frunzele platanilor,
n Luxemburg e toamn.

Only desire, young and wandering,

Moves, to encounter itself in doorways,
Desire embraces desire,
Beloved embraces beloved.

22

19

6 PE LNG PLOPII FR SO

WHERE MATELESS POPLARS GROW

Mihai Eminescu

Passing the house of the woman who spurned him in his

youth, the poet regards her without emotion: she, perhaps
at long last interested in him, cannot capture his interest
because for him too much time and pain have passed.

Pe lng plopii fr so
Adesea am trecut;
M cunoteau vecinii toi. . .
Tu nu m-ai cunoscut.

Where mateless poplars grow,

I often walked;
Your neighbors knew me. . .
You did not.

La geamul tu ce strlucea,
Privii att de des,
O lume toat-nelegea . . .
Tu nu m-ai neles.

When I so often stared

At your lighted window,
The whole world understood . . .
You did not.

Azi nici mcar nu-mi pare ru

C trec cu mult mai rar,
C cu tristee capul tu
Se-ntoarce n zadar

Today it does not touch me

That I pass this way so seldom,
That your head sadly
Turns toward me in vain;

Cci azi le semeni tuturor

La umblet i la port
i te privesc nepstor
C-un rece ochi de mort.

Because today you are like the rest,

Like them in your movements;
Indifferent, I regard you
With a dead man's unseeing eye.

20

SUMMER NIGHT
George Cobuc

7 NOAPTE DE VAR
George Cobuc

The quiet of the slumbering village lends extra tenderness

to the sweet meetings of young lovers who embrace late at
night in moonlit doorways.

Charm-filled horizons
Shine from forest clearings;
Within the brush blackbirds hide,
Night peers out behind the trees.

Zrile, de farmec pline,

Strlucesc n lumini;
Zboar mierlele-n tufi
i din codri noaptea vine
Pe furi.

Slowly the heavily laden carts clatter in;

The bleating of sheep is heard,
And the energetic whoops of young lads
Rushing down the paths.

Care cu poveri de munc

Vin ncet i scrind;
Turmele s-aud mugind,
i flcii vin pe lunc
Hulind.

Cu cofia, pe-ndelete,
Vin neveste de la ru;
i, cu poala prins-n bru,
Vin cntnd n stoluri fete
De la gru.

Married women with jugs of water

Amble up from the river;
Young girls come singing from the cornfields,
Their skirts raised up under their belts.

Dar din ce in ce s-alin

Toate zgomotele-n sat.
Muncitorii s-au culcat.
Linitea-i acum deplin
i-a-noptat.

Gradually, all noises fade,

The harvesters have gone to rest.
Silence is now complete,
Night has fallen.

De la grl-n plcuri dese

Zgomotoi copiii vin;
Satul e de vuiet plin;
Fumul alb alene iese
Din cmin.

From the brook, in dense little groups,

Children noisily swarm;
The village fills with the sound of many voices;
From the chimneys curls lazy white smoke.

21