Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
Zalmoxis
Zamolxe
Parallel Texts
Parallel Texts
Edited by
Translated into English by
Lidia Vianu
Press Release Monday 14 December 2015
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Zamolxe
1921.
Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
978-606-760-027-8
Zalmoxis
Zamolxe
1921
Parallel Texts
Translated into English by
Doris Plantus
Edited by
Lidia Vianu
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
Contents
Translator’s Foreword p. 4
Acknowledgments p. 9
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Translator’s Foreword
My first translation of Zamolxe, mister păgân, emerged out of a translation seminar I took as a graduate student. While
I remain proud of that first attempt, I realized some years ago, how much Blaga’s play stood to gain by a fresh translation,
all the more because I have made modest strides as a translator since then. This second edition, therefore, is a revised
translation of my original version in which I have corrected previous errors—some large, some small, while reaffirming
certain innovations I find as appropriate now, as they were intuitive back then.
The eloquence of Lucian Blaga’s dramatic poem, Zamolxe, mister păgân, is its earnest attempt at fording an impossible
barrier that separated a Latinized people from a dissociated non-Roman past. Recorded by Herodotus in his Histories,
corroborated by Strabon and others, and perhaps more importantly, since sustained by oral tradition, Zalmoxis is reported
to have been a prophet-priest to a branch of the Thracian people called Getae by Greek writers, and Dacian by the Romans.
The Thracians were a ubiquitous tribe stretching from the north of Greece throughout the Balkans, with the Dacians
occupying the Danube basin in present day Romania. Although Zalmoxis persists historically in an opaque light as an
obscure, passionate hero in the orphic tradition, Blaga openly creates a myth that speaks to the complex and innovative
religion of the Thracians at that time: the concept of immortality. He germinates the historical component of Zalmoxis into
a mythical persona in order to explore the substance of the myth, thus the story of the enigmatic prophet-priest possesses
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little more than the invariant core conceived by ancient Dacians, in terms of factual content in Blaga’s play. Herodotus, after
all, identifies Zalmoxis as the god of the Dacian religion, whose central tenet was immortality. Beyond that, Zalmoxis is
pure Blaga. That is to say, the man, and the myth are poeticized under the artistic and philosophical hand of one of
Romania’s most prominent poets and philosophers.
The dynamics of translating a work that in its own heart remains conflicted with issues of cultural transmission and
autochthonomy presented curious challenges on several levels. Fortunately, Lucian Blaga is remarkable as a writer for his
ability to reconcile poetical and philosophical arrays of reasonable inference. The latitude for convergent meaning is
generous; the focus of Blaga’s myth has a built-in inevitability that allows the task of translation to operate within relatively
stable territory. Therefore, despite a Nabokovian temptation to render the real work over a cosmetic embellishment, I aimed
for the inherent relativity between characters, plot, and theme, while striving to transpose three-dimensional attributes of
language. For practical purposes I strove to translate the first draft in a Ciceronian style before exploiting cultural and
historical associations of individual words and phrases. I tried leaving as few of my fingerprints as possible, for as many
times as I turned words over (and over). Romanian—the source language—is replete with more than two thousand years
of culture, folklore, history, and as many mysteries as Orpheus and Dionysus combined, since linguistic and historical
evidence makes the point that its origins include a significant non-Latin root.
The translatability of the text revealed just how pertinent translation theory was to a play whose action is both
spatially and temporally remote. Blaga undertook to translate a significant historical and folkloric component of an
indigenous culture, without the luxury of knowing the ancient source language. In addition, he was attempting to access a
non-Roman ancestral culture via a Latinized people and language. It is not the present concern of this translation to
speculate on the political implications of Blaga’s intention at that time, although they are exquisitely present; such integral
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properties of the play make for fertile discussions in their own right at another time. It is worth noting, however, that such
issues of national identity and cultural birthright contribute heavily to the dynamics of the play proper. Part of the myth-
making process is, finally, a matter of timing, arrangement and purpose. Not only does Blaga create Zalmoxis as a myth,
he does it in a contemporary language of Zalmoxis’ posterity—a correctly anticipated maneuver. The fact that he extends
an ancient culture to what would be its natural endpoint, reflects Blaga’s perception of language as subject to forces of
evolution. He manages, hence, to create also a sense of synchretized strangeness in contemporary Romanian, by reinforcing
key aspects of oral tradition, not limited to remote metaphor, complex imagery, and extremely inert semiotics. For example,
Herodotus tells us that Zalmoxis preached immortality, and at some point sequestered himself in a cave for four years,
before returning among his people. Blaga invents the circumstances that shape his play at great risk, no doubt, but he
succeeds in providing stunning, yet subtle insight into aspects of Dionysian and orphic mysteries as well. In this fashion,
Blaga seems to compensate for the veritable obscurity of the Dacian language, by his haptic and intuitive grasp of the Dacian
philosophy on life, community, nature, mythology and spiritual immortality. I too opted for presenting the characters and
actions as a philosophical whole, over the exclusive interpretation of linguistic text. This resulted in a translation whose
literalness maintains that raw rendering is purer in meaning than a more sophisticated, embellished version. Put another
way, I avoided the heresy of interpretation by focusing on Blaga’s philosophical framing of the legendary Zalmoxis. What
some readers may find awkward in terms of word order or regionalisms, is simply an unapologetic rendering of expression.
We are not only traveling across co-temporal languages, but traveling back in time as well. Even Blaga’s original Romanian
poetic prose, with its odd punctuation and lofty colloquialisms puts the emphasis on the characters’ ontology, rather than
on linguistic performance.
Consequently, I solved what struck me as a problematic passage in Zalmoxis’ opening monologue, and again in Act
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III, by creating an internal dialogue. Since this is a spoken part, the length might be too heavy on a Western audience. But
this artistic innovation actually speaks to my earlier point: the highly reflexive nature of Zalmoxis’ lengthy monologue
reveals the meditative nature of Blaga’s use of philosophy as a dramatic tool. The sense in the original Romanian is just
that—an internal dialogue, the kind of auto-dialectic that craves enlightenment. By breaking up the monologue, I came
closer to apprehending not only the character of Zalmoxis, but his relationship to nature, national identity, and immortality
of the human soul. In other places, however, I followed syntactic form and overall structure, complete with Blaga’s grammar
and punctuation.
Doris Plantus
Troy, 2012
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Acknowledgments
I think it would be impossible to offer greater praise of Lucian Blaga’s play Zamolxe, and indeed his entire corpus
than to say I inherited the very intuitive prowess of what he came to define as mythosophy long before I discovered his
work. As a first-generation Romanian born in the United States, I did not experience an introduction to Blaga as a native;
instead, my first exposure came at 16, when I visited Romania and returned with a book of his poems. Soon after, my cousin,
Emilia Lazi Kirch sent me a number of books, which included his dramatic poem, Zamolxe. Thus I must thank her first, for
providing the opportunity for me to know his particular genius.
I also extend fond gratitude to Lucian Bâgiu, Valeriu Sofronie, and Michael Jones. I am grateful for their
encouragement and support, unexpected inspiration and information in my new translation of this work. Also I remain
appreciative of Virgil Nemoianu’s thoughtful editorial comments.
Finally, I acknowledge the support and enthusiasm of my family, in particular my children, Benjamin and his wife
Cristina, and Daniel. They never cease to motivate me even under the most challenging circumstances. Also I thank my
father, Deacon Aurel Plantus, and my mother Mary, for giving me the pure essence of my cultural identity, and urging me
forward at every turn in my grand journey of fulfillment. Without them, this project would not have been possible.
To everyone who offered constructive criticism, worthwhile suggestions, and the means by which to acquire the
necessary contacts in order to complete this task of translation, I thank you with all my heart. Last but not least, a special
thank you to Tom Yagiela for his loving support and advice.
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Lucian Blaga
Zamolxe. Poem
1919
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Zalmoxis
1921
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BACCHANTE
DACIAN PEOPLE
Acţiunea se petrece în munţii Daciei. The action takes place in the Dacian mountains, cc 1BC.
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O peşteră larg căscată. Multe stânci. Amurg. Un stejar bătrân cu A large cave entrance. 1Many rocks. Dusk. An old hollowed oak
o scorbură. Zamolxe, cu o piele de căprioară pe umeri, şade în faţa tree. Zalmoxis sits on a rock at the mouth of the cave, a deerskin
peşterii, pe o piatră. wrapped around his shoulders.
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
(singur) (alone)
Mă-mpărtăşesc cu câte-un strop din tot ce creşte I make communion with drops of all that thrives
şi se pierde. and is lost.
Nimic nu mi-e strein, Nothing is strange to me,
şi numai marea îmi lipseşte. and only the sea I am missing.
Duhul meu—al meu sau al pământului e tot atât— My Spirit—mine and the earth’s is just as much as this—
şi-a aşternut aici cojocul său de muşchi şi-aşteaptă. and it has spread here its mighty cloak and waits.
De câte ori nu cântă, el aşteaptă, Sometimes he sings not, he waits,
şi visul vine harnic să-l dezmierde. and the dream comes heartily to pamper him.
Lac îmblânzit de zile fără vânt sunt eu A lake calmed by days without wind, am I,
1 Kolgaion is the name of the holy mountain associated with the Getae, as recorded by Strabon, Geografia, VII, 3,5.
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Departe eşti poporul meu dac, neam de urşi. Distant are you, my Dacian people, clan of the bear.
Religie nouă şi vânjoasă încercat-am să-ţi aduc A new and robust religion tried I to bring you
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E mult de-atunci, mult. Soarele îşi coborîse It is a long time since that time, a long time. The sun had
toată mierea în livadă când ţi-am spus driven down
parabola cu Orbul. its honey into the orchard, when I told you
Despre Dumnezeu nu poţi vorbi decît aşa: the parable of the Blind One.
îl întrupezi în floare şi-l ridici în palme, You cannot speak of God but in this way:
îl preface în gînd şi-l tăinueşti în suflet, you embody him in a flower and raise him in your palms—
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îl asemeni c-un izvor şi-l laşi să-ţi curgă lin —you conceive him in your mind and make him a
peste picioare, mystery in your soul—
îl prefaci în soare şi-l aduni cu ochii, — you perceive him a wellspring and let him run gently
îl închipui om şi-l rogi să vie-n sat, over your feet…
unde-l aşteaptă toate visurile omeneşti. …you make him the sun and gather him with your eyes,
Arunci grăunţe între brazde şi zici: you imagine him a man and invite him to your village—
„Din ele creşte Dumnezeu.” — where every human dream awaits him.
You scatter grains between the furrows and you say:
From these grains grows God.
În dimineaţa ceea, ca să mă priceapă şi copiii, In that very morning, that even children
l-am schimbat în orb. may understand me,
Le-am spus: „Noi suntem văzători, I made him blind.
iar Dumnezeu e-un orb bătrân. I told them: “We are the seeing,”
Fiecare e copilul lui— ...while God is an old blind man.
şi fiecare îl purtăm de mână”. Not even you know whence you come nor where you go.
Căci nu ești tu, Dumnezeire, neînțelesul orb, You are the tormented thought crushed in space.
ce-şi pipăie cărarea printre spini? You writhe eternally
Nu ştii nici tu de unde vii şi unde mergi. fumbling to make miracles, as never were before,
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Eşti chinuitul gând strivit în gol. but your arms are not as strong
Te zbuciumi veşnic, dibuind as your dream is lofty.
să faci minuni cum n-au mai fost, So often you fall defeated
dar braţele nu-ţi sunt aşa de tari and never suspect the storm of light you created.
precum ţi-e visul de înalt. Do you cry out to me?
Atât de des tu cazi înfrânt Do you call me?
şi nici nu bănuieşti furtuna de lumină ce-ai creat-o. From the bottom of the sea?
Mă strigi? Your turbulent shout comes, it comes.
Mă chemi? Behold me, I am your incarnation, and here are my eyes,
Din fundul unei mări? do you want them?
Turbărătoru-ţi chiot vine, vine. Are we not instead meant to take without coercion
Iată, sunt făptura ta, şi-aici sunt ochii mei ; îi vrei? upon our small shoulders,
Nu suntem oare pentru ca fără de silă your fate, all powerful Blind One?
să luăm pe micii noştri umeri Quiet One, Sad One:
soarta ta, puternicule Orb? we, your saviours,
Tăcutule, tristule; we, the wild children.
noi mântuitorii tăi,
noi sălbaticii copii.
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De ce mi-au sfârticat cu pietre gura Why did they smash my mouth to bits with stones
când astfel le vorbisem despre tine when I had spoken this way to them of you
în dimineaţa ceea? in that morning?
Nu era destul de darnic soarele, Was not the sun kind enough
şi gândurile mele speriau din cuiburi paserile? and were my thoughts frightening the birds from their
Nu eram destul de blând? nests?
Wasn’t I gentle enough?
De-atunci s-a prăvălit atâta timp, Since then so much time has collapsed
şi iezerul cu unda lui mi-a mângâiat amarul. and the mountain lake with its wave comforted my
Aici sunt aiuritele tăceri bitterness.
din care poţi privi în dosul lumii. Here are the rambling silences
from which you can behold from the backside of the world.
(Se ridică, şi din scorbura stejarului scoate un fagure galben. Îl He rises and takes from the hollow of the tree a yellow honeycomb.
stoarce—şi mierea curge în nisip.) He crushes it with his fingers and the honey drips onto the sand.
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ca laptele din gura unui prunc ce-a supt prea mult. like milk from the mouth of an infant that has sucked too
De-acum, amurgurile reci vor face rând pe rând much.
From now on the chilly dusks will make one after the other
din fiecare frunză de stejar un clopoţel de-aramă, from every oak leaf a bell of brass,
iar noaptea vor cădea mai multe stele. while many more stars will fall at night.
În gura peşterii In the mouth of the cave
voi sta, în pace să le număr, şi-mi voi zice: will I stand quietly, to number them, and I will say to
myself:
Râzând, Laughing
în templul ei voi arunca seminţe multe in their temple I will hurl many seeds
pentru porumbii Orbului. for the doves of the Blind One.
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II
Nu departe în fund se văd zidurile cetăţii. În stânga o parte The walls of the fortress can be seen mid-stage. On the left is a part of
a templului, columne şi trepte jur împrejur. În faţa the temple, columns and stairs all around. In front of the temple, off to
templului, ceva mai îndărăt, o spânzurătoare. Apus de the side, are gallows. Sunset. Soldiers guard the temple, huddled in a
soare. Ostaşi păzesc templul; ei zac grămadă, numai unul e pile. Only one is standing on the steps with a spear resting on his
în picioare pe trepte cu suliţa pe umăr. Doi muncitori shoulder. Two workers hurry with finishing touches on the gallows.
întârzie cu cele din urmă lucrări la spânzurătoare.
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Celui ce va da de urma lui Zamolxe. he has promised his daughter as a wild gift
Ori aţi uitat? to the one who uncovers Zalmoxis’ tracks.
Or have you forgotten?
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pentr-o noapte cel puţin. Ce? Frumoasă sărbătoare! Zeomora for my wife forever, at least
Dar Magul fu zgârcit şi-mi dete for one night. So what? A beautiful holiday!
doar această zdreanţă de libertate. But Magus had been too stingy to give me
Ieri m-a întrebat: „Când îmi aduci şi capul lui anything but this rag—of liberty.
Zamolxe?” Yesterday he asked me: when will you bring me the head of
I-am zis: „Când şi-l va pierde ca opincile, sfinţia ta!” Zalmoxis?
I answered: when he loses it like his slippers, your holiness!
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(Toţi se aşază în două rânduri. Magul trece printre suliţi şi- (Everyone assembles into two lines. Magus walks among the spears and
i priveşte ager în ochi.) looks with agile eyes.)
MAGUL MAGUS
(aspru) (sharply)
Corbi vreau să văd în zori pe furci! I want to see ravens on your pitchforks at dawn!
Aţi înţeles? Have you understood?
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(Dispare în dosul templului. Ostaşii se închină şi s-aşază la (Magus disappears in the back of the temple.)
locul lor.)
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III
Bordeiul unui vrăjitor. Noapte. Pe vatră arde focul. A sorcerer’s cottage. Night, Fire burns in the hearth. The flames light
Flăcările luminează întreg bordeiul. Vrăjitorul are pe up the inside. The sorcerer wears Thracian horns.
frunte coarne trace.
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
(Ia dintr-un ungher un craniu omenesc, toarnă dintr-un (He takes from a corner a human skull, and fills it with wine from a jug.
ulcior vin în el şi-l aşază pe vatră lângă flăcări. S-aud Loud pounding is heard at the door and he sets the skull down on the
lovituri în uşă.) hearth.)
Cine e? Who is it?
O VOCE MAGUS
Magul. Magus.
(Vrăjitorul deschide.) The Sorcerer opens the door and lets him in.
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MAGUL MAGUS
(intră gâfâind) (rushing in out of breath)
Dă-mi adăpost sub straşina puterii tale. Give me shelter beneath the roof of your power. Not from
Nu de tunete, thunder,
dar de năpârci. but from vipers.
S-au răsculat învăţăceii lui Zamolxe. Zalmoxis’ disciples have risen up.
Un zvon trecu spre seară prin cetate Word travels through the fortress
că m-aşteaptă gârla-n noaptea asta. that the throng awaits me this night.
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
Şi templul? And the temple?
MAGUL MAGUS
Îl străjuiesc ostaşi voinici. The hearty soldiers keep watch over it.
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
Voinici or fi, dar sunt şi credincioşi? Hearty they may be, but are they faithful?
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MAGUL MAGUS
(growing calmer)
Ca fumul de tămâie. Like the smoke from the incense.
(Se mai linşteşte.)
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
S-a-ntors Zamolxe? Has Zalmoxis returned?
MAGUL MAGUS
De când fugi, nu i-au mai dat de urmă. Ever since he ran off, they haven’t found his trail.
Spun unii că s-a prăpădit stingher prin munţi, Some say that he has become a lonely wretch in the mountains,
dar alţii mai şoptesc că va să vie iarăşi, but others whisper that he will surely come again
să-mi smulgă templul şi să sfarme zeii. to snatch the temple away from me and smash the gods.
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
Sunt tocmai şapte ani de când ai îndârjit It is actually seven years since you persuaded
mulţimea să-l alunge. the people to cast him out.
Eu nu te-am sfătuit, căci un profet I didn’t advise, because a prophet
nu e nimic, dar un profet lovit e mult. is nothing, but a prophet struck down—is great.
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MAGUL MAGUS
(scârbit) (disgusted)
Poporul, poporul! The people! The people!
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
Ce sfânta-ar fi prostia lui de n-ar fi schimbăcioasă! How holy would his stupidity be if he weren’t so fickle!
MAGUL MAGUS
(deznădăjduit) (despairingly)
Amară de-ntrebări mi-e inima. Zeii, cum ni-i vom My heart is bitter with questions. The gods—how will they save
scăpa? us?
Cum, o, cum îi vom scăpa? How, o how will we save them?
Eu—pândarul veşniciei—cad. I—the keeper of eternity—fall.
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
Zeii se hrănesc cu suflet omenesc. The gods feed on the human soul.
Când se isprăveşte-acest nutreţ, When this nutrient has been depleted,
când nu mai crede nimenea în ei, when all cease to believe in them,
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s-adună trişti şi-şi cheamă marele sfârşit. they gather sadly, and call for their great end.
Nu le mai poate ajuta nici mierea Neither honey, nor goat’s milk shall help them.
şi nici laptele de capre. Goat’s milk,
Laptele de capre, care, fără de-a fi muls, if it is not milked
se scurge pentru ei prin buruieni când ugerele runs over the weeds for them when their udders
sunt prea pline. are too full.
MAGUL MAGUS
(ridică braţele) (raising his arms)
Nemuritorilor, vă zvântă necredinţa! You, undead, your faithlessness dries up!
De nicăieri nu vă mijeşte mântuirea! Your salvation blinks from nowhere!
Zadarnic ani m-am zvârcolit atâta-n neodihnă. For years have I tossed restlessly and in vain.
Răspunsul The answer
nu mi l-au dat nici tablele Not even the black tablets
înţelepciunii negre-aduse din Egipet, of wisdom brought forth from Egypt gave me,
nici amintirea sibilinicelor sfaturi not even the Sibyll’s recollection of advice
Aauzite-n fumul de la Delfi. heard in the smoke at Delphi.
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
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Nici cea mai naltă dintre multele virtuţi? Not even the highest of virtues?
MAGUL MAGUS
(îşi adună gândurile) (collecting his thoughts)
Viclenia? Deceit?
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
Izvorul nesecat de bune sfaturi. The eternal spring of advice.
Vino, liniştete-te. Răspunsul căutat va trebui Come, calm yourself. The answer you seek will have
să-ţi bată într-o zi la poartă— to knock on your door one day—
dacă astazi nu, atuncea mâine. if not today, then tomorrow.
Credinţa veche n-o să moară: The old faith will not die:
un butuc de vie-l crezi de mult uscat, a trunk of the grape vine you think long dry
şi totuşi toamna îl găseşti mai încărcat is even more laden than ever
de struguri decât orişicând. with grapes than ever in autumn.
Să ne-aşezăm în pâlpâirea vetrei. Eşti obosit? Let us sit near the flickering hearth. Are you tired?
Răbdare. Have patience.
În adăpostul meu e cald. In my shelter it is warm.
Aşa. Şi-acuma, înc-odată: viclenia! So. And once again: deceit!
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MAGUL MAGUS
(luminându-se dintr-o dată) (brightening suddenly)
Un gând, bătrânule, un gând. A thought, old one, a thought.
Ascultă- mă. Nu-s singur. Tu-mi eşti bun. Listen to me. I’m not alone. You are good for me.
Tu nu m-ai părăsit. You haven’t abandoned me.
Să-ntindem în ascuns poporului o cursă? Shall we spread a curse secretly among the people?
Mulţimei să-i lăsăm nălucă. We should give the people a ghost.
Religia lui Zamolxe-şi face cuib acum Zalmoxis’ religion is now making itself a nest
şi-n inimile cele mai statornice prin vechile ogaşe. in the hearts of the most faithful through the old quarters.
El nu s-a-ntors, şi totuşi e aci. He hasn’t returned and yet he is here.
El ne doboară zeii pentru Orbul său. He smashes our gods for his Blind One.
Ce-ar fi să răspândim povestea în popor So, how would it be if we spread the story among the people
că Zamolxe a fost un zeu el însuşi? that Zalmoxis, himself, was a god;
Ce pierdem? What have we to lose?
Avem un zeu mai mult în primitorul nostru templu, For the price of one extra god in our gracious temple,
dar astfel mântuim întreg soborul zeilor. we will save the whole pantheon of gods.
Oamenii divinizând pe Zamolxe As the people begin to worship Zalmoxis,
îi vor uita învăţătura. they will soon forget his teachings.
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
48
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
O cursă vrednică de isteţimea unui mag. A worthy trap from the wisdom of a magician.
Legendă făcătoare de minuni: ce solzi strălucitori, A legend- maker of miracles. What sparkling scales,
şireată, ochi de şarpe! crafty, snake eyes.
Oamenii divinizând pe Zamolxe îi vor uita People will deify Zalmoxis—and they will forget his teachings.
învăţătura? Is this your idea? Oh, great priest.
E gândul tău? O, mare-preot.
MAGUL MAGUS
Nu-i nimenea-n bordei? There is no one else in your cottage?
Ţi-e uşa bine zǎvorâtǎ? Is your door bolted shut?
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
Să nu ai nici o teamă. Have no fear.
MAGUL MAGUS
Ogoru-i proaspăt, The field is fresh
şi legenda va întinde rădăcini. and the legend will stretch forth its roots.
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
49
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
(îi întinde mâna) (extending his hand)
Mâna şi cuvântul meu! My hand and my word!
MAGUL MAGUS
(încet) (softly)
De tine-ascultă apa! Even the water obeys you!
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
(mai încet) (quieter still)
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
50
MAGUL MAGUS
De tine-ascultă vântul! Even the wind obeys you!
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
De mine-ascultă stelele! Even the stars obey me!
MAGUL MAGUS
Şi mai presus de orişice, Above all things,
de tine-ascultă tot ce nu e. even all that is not obeys you.
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
Eu ştiu vrăji poveştile să se prefacă-n adevăr. I know how to bewitch stories so that they become truth.
MAGUL MAGUS
Ţi-am dat povestea. I gave you the story.
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
51
MAGUL MAGUS
(tresare) (startled)
Un zgomot surd lângă bordei. A muted sound near the cottage.
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
Doar paşi ai liniştei. N-aud nimic. It’s only the footfall of silence. I hear nothing.
MAGUL MAGUS
Ura lor m-adulmecă. Deschide uşa şi ascultă! Their hatred tracks my scent. Just open the door and listen!
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
(deschide; apoi, c-un strigăt) (opens the door and lets out a yell)
Arde cetatea! The fortress is burning!
52
MAGUL MAGUS
(furtunos) (angrily)
Pârjol spre miazăzi. Calamity in the south.
Încăierare. Vâlvătaie. Templul e departe, A siege. Flames. The temple is far,
nu-l vor cuceri. O, numai cerul să nu ardă. they will not overtake it. O,only that the sky should not burn.
Alte flăcări. Other flames.
Taci, Quiet,
ascultă! listen!
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
E plâns îndepărtat. A weeping in the distance.
MAGUL MAGUS
Mi-au dat de urmă. They have tracked me.
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
Sunt paseri speriate: îşi scutură funinginea ‘Tis only frightened birds: they are shaking the soot
şi spuza de pe aripi. and hot ash from their wings.
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
53
MAGUL MAGUS
Pân-aici aduce vântul scrumul. The wind brings the ashes all the way here.
(Amândoi se retrag speriaţi. La un semn al Vrăjitorului— They both withdraw, shaken. The Sorcerer gives Magus a sign to hide
Magul se ascunde în pământ, lângă vatră. Vrăjitorul pune in the cellar, near the hearth. Then the sorcerer puts kindling on the fire
vreascuri pe focul care stă să se stingă. După câteva clipe, that is about to go out. After a few moments, the Shepherd appears.
apare.)
CIOBANUL SHEPHERD
(cu cojoc de oaie, înfăţişare bolnavă, aiurând) (He is wearing a sheep skin coat and has a delirious countenance.)
Mâine iar răsare luna— Tomorrow the moon rises again—
mi-e frică de lumina ei. I am afraid of her light.
Soarele-i uşor, dar luna-i grea. The sun is light, but the moon is heavy.
Când mă atinge pe pleope, cad trăsnit When it touches my eyelids, I fall
ca de-o măciucă-n frunte şi mă schimb as though struck with a club on my forehead, and I change
în priculici. Oriunde-aş fi: în munţi, into werewolf. No matter where I am, on the mountains
pe-o muche aşteptând, sau fluierând în stână, waiting on a ridge, or whistling in the sheepfold,
cad—şi-n chip de fiară neagră-mi sfâşiu I fall—and in the form of a black beast I rent
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
54
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
De când îţi porţi osânda? Since when do you bear this curse?
CIOBANUL SHEPHERD
E-al şaptelea cules de vii. The seventh harvest of the grapes.
Neastâmpărata droaie asculta-n livada Orbului The uneasy throng had gathered in the orchard of the Blind One
cuvântul lui Zamolxe. to listen to Zalmoxis speak.
Am fost întâiul care l-am brodit c-o piatră I was the first one to strike him with a rock
în obraz. Ne aţâţase Magul. in the face. Magul had taunted us.
Nu mai ştiu, am tremurat apoi şi mă durea, I don’t know anymore, I trembled and after I ached
căci tânărul deschise ochii mari şi trişti— because the young man opened his sad eyes, wide—
şi n-a-ntrebat de ce. and did not ask why.
Dar în aceeaşi seară s-a ivit şi luna. But on this same night the moon had appeared also.
Mi-am sfârticat cinci oi şi-am plâns în lâna lor. I tore five sheep to shreds and then I wept in their fleece.
De-atunci, prin rouă, brumă, ploi, Ever since then through dew, frost, rain,
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
55
iau câmpii-n goană tot la fel. I take to the fields full speed the same way.
Mă duc pe urmele acelui tânăr cu ochi mari I track the young man with the big eyes
şi caut în nisipuri sângele ce-a curs din trupul său. and seek in the sand the blood that runs from his body.
Când sorb o picătură, mă dezmetecesc When I sip a drop of his spilled blood I come to my senses
şi iaraşi mă fac om. and become once more—a man.
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
Din slava mai presus de fire voi plivi By the glory of a superior grace will I weed out
misterul lui Zamolxe. the mystery of Zalmoxis.
Nu eşti întâiul care suferă pe urma lui, You are not the first to suffer in his wake,
Străinule! Stranger!
CIOBANUL SHEPHERD
Păzeşte-mă de lună. Protect me from the moon.
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
(aruncă bobi de tămâie în flăcări, şi-apoi ridică mâna (tosses nuggets of incense into the flames, raising his hand with great
deasupra focului) ceremony)
Tu, cel ce vezi prin lucruri, You, the one who sees through things,
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
56
CIOBANUL SHEPHERD
Păzeşte-mă de lună. Protect me from the moon.
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
Tu vezi prin lucruri şi prin inimi. You see through things and through hearts.
57
Zamolxe n-a fost om. A fost un zeu. Zalmoxis was not a man. He was a god.
Din cuibul veşniciei From the nest of eternity
s-a coborât pe trepte de lumină he descended upon steps of light
să vă-nveţe tinereţea şi durerea. to teach you youth and pain.
Pâne nu i-aţi dat— Bread you did not give him—
şi piatra strigă. and the stone cries out.
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
Nemuritorii cuibăresc pe-un munte The deathless nest on a mountain
ridicat din sori. lifted out of daybreak.
Zamolxe nu se-ntoarce înapoi în cerul său? Will not Zalmoxis return to his sky?
58
iar mieii vor pieri ca strugurii din vii. while lambs will perish like the grapes of the vines.
Ciopliţi-i chip de piatră lui Zamolxe! Carve a body of stone for Zalmoxis!
Zeul strigă, cere jertfe! The god calls out, he asks for sacrifice!
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
(ia craniul de pe vatră şi-l poartă prin flăcări) ( takes the skull from the hearth and passes it through the flames)
Apari, duh nevăzut, în murmurul de flăcări, Show yourself, unseen spirit, in the murmuring flames,
şi mântuie lunaticii de chin. and cure the lunatics of their suffering.
Tot sângele vărsat din trupul lui Zamolxe May all the blood spilled from Zalmoxis’ body
adune-se-n aceste picături de vin! gather in these drops of wine!
(Ciobanul, care tot timpul a ascultat uimit, cade în (The shepherd, who has been listening all this time now falls to his
genunchi.) knees. )
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
59
VRĂJITORUL SORCERER
(îi dă băutura vrăjită din craniu) ( gives the skull with the potion to the shepherd to drink.)
Jucând pe creştete Playing on the crests
sub brazi înalţi, beneath the tall pines
îţi va ieşi în cale luna. the moon will cross your path.
Şi luna va să-ţi toarne And the moon would want to pour
prietenie-n suflet— friendship into your soul—
moale, dulce, blândă şi duioasă. soft, sweet, mild, and tender.
Oile n-or mai avea de tine teamă The sheep will no longer fear you—
şi nici câinii tăi. neither will your dogs.
Închină-te de-acuma mai vârtos Bow down more virtuously than ever before to
acelui zeu pe care l-ai lovit, this god whom you struck.
şi adu-i păstrăvi pe altar and bring trout upon his altar
ca un sfielnic sfânt pescar. like a humbled fisherman.
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
60
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
61
62
O livadă înconjurată de vii împrăştiate pe dealuri. Pădure la An orchard surrounded by vineyards scattered on the hills. A
dreaptă. În livadă, vase mari de pamânt pline de must. Culegători forest on the right. In the orchard, many large amphorae filled
vin şi trec cu hârdaie. Lângă pădure, Ghebosul, încărcat cu with fermenting wine. Harvesters come and go with jugs. Next to
struguri din cale-afară de mari, în mâni, pe umeri, stă de vorbă the woods, the Hunchback, loaded down with wonderfully large
cu un trecător—fără a fi auzit. Mai în faţă, alţi trei culegători grapes, in his hands, on his shoulders, talks to a passerby so that
povestesc cu ochii îndreptaţi spre Ghebos. no one can hear him. Further upstage, another three harvesters
chat among themselves, with their eyes on the Hunchback.
63
A îngropat sub fiecare viţă câte-un stârv de om Beneath every vine trunk the hunchback has buried a
găsit pe drumuri ori pe ape. corpse
he has found on the road or in the water.
64
65
GHEBOSUL HUNCHBACK
(batjocoritor) (mockingly)
Noului Nemuritor al vostru de pe drumuri adunat? This New Immortal of yours from roads collected?
Când se târa pe-aicea sărăntoc— When he was crawling around like a mendicant—
voia să vă omoare zeii... să-şi croiască he wanted to kill your gods...to cut his slippers
opinci din pielea lor. Şi-acum? Acum from their skin. And now? Now
îi ridicaţi şi lui jertfelnice! you offer him sacrifices.
Ciudat! Strange times!
Dar ce mai flecăresc? E bine-aşa: de-acum aveţi Yet why do they still chatter? It is alright like this: from now
un zeu care-nţelege şi limba voastră. on you have
a god who finally understands your language.
(Ironic:) (ironically)
Ceilalţi nu vorbesc decât greceşte. The others, after all, speak only Greek.
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
66
(Arătând spre Ciobanul care se apropie:) (Gesturing toward the approaching shepherd)
Iar alţii-n lună... Hau-hau-hau. while the fate of others’ is hidden in the moon... ha-u, ha-u,
ha-u.
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68
CULEGĂTORII HARVESTERS
Venim! We are coming!
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
69
70
când eu zic da, să ziceţi şi voi da; that when I say yes, you should also say yes,
când eu zic nu, să ziceţi şi voi nu. when I say no, you should also say no.
(Cei trei culegători se duc în vii. Ciobanul se aşază pe un dâlm şi- (The three harvesters go into the vineyard. The Shepherd sits on
începe să cânte din fluier o doină sfâşietoare. Din pădure sar trei a bluff and begins to play a moving ode on the wooden flute. Three
copii, fiecare cu câte-un fir de trestie în mână. Se aruncă asupra children enter from the forest, each one with a reed in hand. They
unui vas cu must şi sug cu trestia.) foist themselves over the amphora and suck the fermenting wine
through the reeds.)
71
72
73
(Cei doi mai mărişori sug iarăşi cu trestiile, iar cel mic—şezând (The two older boys resume their drinking through the reeds while
în iarbă—strânge din ochi, să nu-l vadă Priculiciul. S-aud râsete the youngest one sits apart on the grass. He is squeezing his eyes
şi chiote, cari s-apropie. Ciobanul se ridică şi ascultă.) shut. Laughter and yelling is heard as someone approaches. The
Shepherd stands up and listens.)
UN CULEGĂTOR A HARVESTER
(sare din vie şi ia copiii de mână) (jumping out from the grapevines and grabs the children by the
hands)
Ascundeţi-vă! Repede, copii. Să nu vedeţi bacante! Hide yourselves! Quickly, children. Beware the Bacchante!
O singură privire de v-atinge, rămâneţi pitici. One look from them, and you will remain forever dwarves.
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(Din vii răspund sute de guri:) Many voices answer back from the vines.
(Jocul bacantelor reîncepe. Strigăte neînţelese. Chiote: „éhove, The dance of the bacchante begins again. Unintelligble yelling,
éhove, éhove!” Culegătorii răspund: „éhove, éhove, éhove!”) whooping: Ehove, ehove, ehove! The harvesters answer back:
Ehove, ehove, ehove!
CIOBANUL SHEPHERD
(ţine isonul jocului) (keeping the dance’s beat)
Nouă preotese verzi Nine jumping priestesses green
sar prin codri şi livezi. Through forest and orchard seen
76
sânge curge prin ciulini. Blood through thistle runs blood red
UN GLAS A VOICE
Mărire zeului Zamolxe! Glory be to Zalmoxis!
77
CULEGĂTORII HARVESTERS
(din sute de piepturi) (from a hundred chests)
Mărire! Glory!
(Strugurii cad aruncaţi din vii în jocul bacantelor. Munţii (Grapes fall from the vines from the dancing. The mountains
răspund cu ecouri.) answer in echoes.)
CIOBANUL SHEPHERD
Să mergem la marele-mag! Let us go to the great Magus!
O BACANTĂ A BACCHANTE
Împlinirea visului s-o cerem! Let us ask for the fulfillment of the dream.
CIOBANUL SHEPHERD
Lăsaţi culesul-n grija ciorilor! Leave the harvest in the care of the ravens.
Veniţi, jucaţi! Come, dance!
Èhove, Zamolxe! Ehové, Zalmoxis!
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
78
(Toţi aleargă spre pădure după el) (All run towards the woods after him)
Èhove, èhove! Ehové, ehové!
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
79
II
Într-o peşteră, gura ei se întrezăreşte în fund. Noapte. Totul The inside of a cave, the back is glimpsed through the mouth.
se pretrece ca într-o lume de năluci, cu o ciudată încetineală Everything takes place as in a world of ghosts and spirits, with a
a vorbei. strange slowness of speech.
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
(ascuns în întuneric) (hidden in the darkness)
M-am coborât tot mai adânc în suflet. I have descended deeper and deeper still into my soul.
Unde sunt, unde sunt? Where am I, where am I?
Tot în peşteră? Still in the cave?
Inima vrea să-mi sară din piept— My heart wants to jump out of my chest—
văd prin munţi: I can see through the mountains:
cetatea nu se mişcă, şi totuşi ne apropiem the fortress doesn’t move and yet we get closer
de-acum. from now on.
(Încet, ca și cum ar invoca niște duhuri:)
O frunză cade-n noapte, A leaf falls in the night,
un veac se scurge în mine. a lifetime drains in me.
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
80
O vedenie se lămureşte într-un colţ al peşterii. Un moşneag An apparition appears in the corner of the cave. An old man holds a
care ţine în mână o cupă. Lumina se răsfrânge de pe arătare cup in his hand. The light is reflected off the image through the whole
în toată peştera. Zamolxe se ridică şi, sprijinindu-se de cave. Zalmoxis rises and steadies himself against the cave wall,
perete, se apropie de nălucă. approaching the apparition.
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
Moşneagule, vrei să-ţi şoptesc tot chinul meu? Old man, shall I whisper to you all my anguish?
S-ar crede că trăieşti, One would think you live,
dar ochii nu-i clipesc. but your eyes blink not.
De unde vii? Where have you come from?
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
De-acolo vin numai visurile. Only dreams come from that place.
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
81
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
Ce poţi să-mi spui? What can you tell me?
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
Mi-e teamă că voi duce prea devreme I fear that too soon will I bring
nouă credinţă între oameni. a new faith among men.
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Viaţa n-are stele pentru noi— Life has no stars for us—
cucuta creşte pe gunoi. hemlock grows on a dung heap.
Ce crezi—în cinstea cui? What do you think—in whose honor?
(Duce cupa la gură, dar se opreşte dintr-odată, apoi urmează (brings the cup to his mouth, stops at once and then finishes with bitter
cu amară ironie:) irony.)
Era să uit. Când ţii ospăţ cu soarta, I’ve almost forgotten. When you host destiny,
cuvine-se să dai şi zeilor din orice băutură. it behooves you to give any drink to the gods.
De astă dată ţin la datina de a-nchina cu ei. This time I will observe the custom of worshipping with them.
(Varsă pe pământ din băutură.) (He spills some of his drink on the ground)
Beţi şi voi, zei, luminoşi ca putregaiul! Drink ye too, gods, bright as rot!
Beţi! Must verde de cucută, Drink! Hemlock green with fermentation.
O cupă mi-e prea mult. A cup is too much for me.
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
83
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
(singur) (alone)
Amare taine-am dezghiocat prin anii mei Bitter secrets have I peeled open throughout my years
cărunţi de-nţelepciune! whitened with wisdom!
Dar nici un trecător nu mi-a ieşit în drum But not one traveler crossed my path
să-i altoiesc în inimă răspunsul meu. that I might graft my answer upon his heart.
Când zilele răsar pe piscuri, When the days on peaks arise,
părul mi-e de flăcări, my hair is as flames—
dar nu e nimeni, nimeni să mă vadă but no one is there, no one to see me
trăsnet încremenit pe stânci. a bolt of lightning frozen upon the rocks.
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
84
(Apare un tânăr cu plete lungi şi coroană de spini pe frunte. A young man with long tresses and a crown of thorns on his forehead
Zamolxe se apropie de el.) appears. Zalmoxis draws near to him.
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
85
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
Aud, mă cheamă cineva în lume. I hear. Someone calls me to the world.
Simt adieri ca dintr-o mare moartă. I feel the breezes as if from a great death.
Dar ce vrei cu coroana ta de spini? But what do you want with your crown of thorns?
(şi-a luat coroana de pe frunte, îi rupe ghimpii şi-i împrăştie (He has removed the crown from his brow, breaks the thorns and
cu gesturi de semănător) spreads them as if sowing seeds.)
Seamăn ghimpi sub Calea laptelui I am planting thorns beneath the Milky Way
şi-aştept să răsară dureri, multe dureri! and waiting for sorrows to grow forth, many sorrows.
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ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
(singur) (alone)
Cerc în zadar să te mai prind, neînţeleasă arătare. In vain do I try to catch you again, incomprehensible apparition.
Te pierzi şi-mi laşi mustrările să le frământ cu pumnii. You lose yourself and leave me to knead reprimands with my
fists.
Ţie, peşteră, nu-ţi las decât aceste urme To you—cave—I leave you nothing but these tracks
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
87
de călcâie tari, şi dacă vrei, un strigăt. of hard heels, and if you want, a shout as well.
Un strigăt de izbândă ori de cădere— A shout of victory or failure—
cine ar putea să spună? who can say which?
Zorile s-aseamănă aşa de mult cu amurgul! The dawn so resembles the dusk.
Oameni, Zamolxe, paşnicul, reintră-n patimile voastre! People, Zalmoxis, the peaceful one, reenters into your passions!
Lume şarpe şi copac World, snake, and tree
au pârlit sub ochii mei, have molted beneath my eyes—
şi-am văzut ce-i cheag în haos and I have seen what is the clot in chaos—
şi ce-i sâmbure în orice fruct and what is the seed in any fruit
căzut în poala vremii. fallen into the lap of time.
Sunt sătul de vis. I’ve had my fill of dreaming.
O, stânci, de mult ce v-am privit, O, rocks, I have looked at you for so long
m-am prefăcut şi eu în stâncă. that I too have made myself a rock.
Vajnic mă topesc Vigorously I melt
şi mă revărs din matca mea, nebun, and spill forth from my origins, mad,
spre şesuri şi spre oameni. towards plains and people.
(Mai liniştit:)
Lucian Blaga
Zalmoxis. Parallel Texts.
Translated into English by Doris Plantus
88
Nălucile apar mai multe azi, Ghosts appear more often these days,
sunt chinuri care muşcă-n pietre. there are travails that bite into rock.
Altădată, nopţile-mi erau un leagăn de odihnă, Once the nights were a cradle of rest for me,
iar ziua lucrurile dimprejur se prefăceau în mine while during the day, things remade themselves in me
într-un vis atât de liniştit, in a dream so peaceful,
că—reci şi jilave—şopârlele veneau that cold and damp, the lizards came to find the sun
Să caute soarele at my bare feet.
pe picioarele mele goale.
(Se iveşte un bărbat mai în vârstă, legat pe un rug. Zamolxe Another apparition appears, an older man tied to a stake 1 Zalmoxis
întinde braţele spre el.) stretches his arms towards him.
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ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
E-adevărat? Dacă tu şi eu am genunchea Is this true? If you and I kneeled
pe marginea acelui lac, care se cheam-al morţilor on the banks of that lake, that they call the lake of the dead
şi al acelora cari încă nu-s născuţi, and of those who have not yet been born,
şi ne-am privi în lac ca-ntr-o oglindă, if we looked into the lake as if into a mirror
am vedea că suntem unul şi acelaşi? E-adevărat? would we see that we are one and the same? Is this true?
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
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Cine te-a ridicat pe rug? Who has lifted you onto the stake?
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
Nu-l ştiu. I do not know him.
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ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
Şi iată, Cumpătatul vine să-ţi aprindă rugul. And behold, the Balancer comes to set fire to your stake.
(Se vede o mână cu o faclă, dând foc vreascurilor.) A hand holding a candle lights the kindling.
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
(singur, zbuciumat) (alone, agitated)
Mi-s ochii beţi de vedenii mai trainice My eyes are drunk with scenes more lifelike
decât aceste stânci pleşuve. than these bald rocks.
Răspunde, inimă! Fii tare, mâna mea! Answer, heart! Be strong, my hand!
O jertfă-ţi cere Orbul. The Blind One asks a sacrifice of you.
Să sfredelesc pământul ca un ochi de mare? Should I pierce the earth like an eye of the sea?
Să-mi sfâşiu trupul pentru turma de flămânzi? Shall I tear my body for a flock starving people?
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Să iau în spate soarele şi să-l cobor în văi? Should I take the sun on my back and carry it down into the
Ori şi mai mult? valleys?
Or even more than this?
Să plec a două oară-n ţara care m-a-nşelat? Or shall I go a second time into the country that deceived me?
Între oameni? Among the people?
Peşteră, te schimb în bucium al plecării mele! Cave, I change you into a bugle of my departure.
(Iese furtunatic din peşteră. O mare de lumină îl întâmpină.) He storms out of the cave. A sea of light attends him.
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III
Miez de noapte. Şes întins. Nici un arbore. Calea laptelui— Middle of the night. A plain stretches out. Not one tree. The Milky
intens vizibilă. Nici o colină. Magul şi Cioplitorul grec se Way is intensely visible. Not one hill. Magus and the Greek
plimbă amândoi cu paşi bătrâni—oprindu-se din când în Woodcarver are walking about with old steps, stopping from time to
când. time.
MAGUL MAGUS
Culegători şi preotese mi-au umplut ograda, The harvesters and the priestesses have filled my courtyard
cerându-şi noul idol. asking after the new idol.
Ai început statuia lui Zamolxe? Have you started the statue of Zalmoxis?
CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
De şapte nopţi cioplesc. I have been carving for seven nights.
MAGUL MAGUS
Cum e marmora? How is the marble?
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CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
E străvezie It is as transparent
ca apa când în fundul mării cade cerul. as water when the sky falls into the bottom of the sea.
MAGUL MAGUS
(arată şesul) (showing the plains.)
Aici e şesul licăririlor de foc. Here is the plain of the flickers of fire.
Din glii zbucnesc lumini de putregai. They burst into light from the rotting ground.
Şi pasul triştilor, săracilor And the footfall of the sad poor
se-ndreaptă spre comori ascunse în pământ head toward treasures hidden in the earth
de regii stinşi ai dacilor. of dead Dacian kings.
CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
(arată spre cer) (showing the sky)
Priveşte: Calea laptelui. Nici celor care mor Behold: the Milky Way. Not even to those who die
nu poate să le pară mai frumoasă. can it seem to burn more beautiful.
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MAGUL MAGUS
(ridicând ochii) (Lifting his eyes)
Ce spun de ea bătrânii dascăli greci, What do the old Greek teachers say of her?
de care zeii însişi vin ca ucenici She, to whom the gods themselves go like disciples
să-nveţe—ce e lumea, ce e gândul—? to learn—what the world is, what is thought—?
CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
(oprindu-se) (stopping himself)
Un mit adus de peste mare zice— A myth brought from across the sea says—
dacă nu mă-nşel—că drumul soarelui if I don’t deceive myself—that the path of the sun
n-a fost întotdeauna unde-i astăzi. wasn’t always where it is today.
Cărarea lui încrucişa pe cea de-acum, His path crosses the one that is now
şi Calea laptelui nu e decât and the Milky Way is nothing more than
ogaşele lăsate pe cristalul bolţii torrents left on the crystal vault of Heaven,
de soare-atâtea mii de ani în urmă, from so many thousands of years ago
că nu-i minte să le poată socoti. that there isn’t a mind that can number them.
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MAGUL MAGUS
(cu privirea în sus) (looking upwards)
Ogaşa soarelui pe drumul veşniciei. Torrents of the sun on the road to eternity.
Mă străbate un fior. A thrill pierces me through.
CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
Femei plângând. O fi murit cineva. Weeping women. Someone must have died.
MAGUL MAGUS
Nu. S-a născut un prunc. No. A babe has been born.1
CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
Pe-aicea se boceşte naşterea, şi totuşi— In these parts one wails at the birth of a child and yet—
eu cunosc atâtea ţări şi pot s-o spun— I know so much of other countries and I can say it—
nu este-un alt popor să-şi mistuie there isn’t another people who consume their
viaţa ca al tău, înalte Preot! life like yours, High Priest!
1 Herodotus writes that Thracians wept and lamented the birth of a child.
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1
Herodotus describes the ritual in Histories, IV.
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MAGUL MAGUS
(ocolind spinii) (avoiding the bramble.)
Cuvântul tău stârneşte-n mine temeri nouă. Your words stir in me a new dread.
CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
Eşti ispitit să crezi că dacii nu nasc om din om. You are tempted to think that Dacians are not born of man into
Nătura-i plăsmuieşte singură, ea însăşi, dintr-o dată, man.
cum îşi face munţii ori izvoarele. Nature alone created them, she, herself, suddenly
Adu-ţi aminte de Zamolxe, like she makes her mountains or springs.
acel necunoscut care-ntr-o zi şi-a coborât din munţi Remember Zalmoxis,
uimirea, vijelia şi porunca. the unknown one, who brought down from the mountains his
I-ai fost vrăjmaş. Te-nţeleg. wonder, storm, and law.
Dar el a fost un dac de baştină. You were an enemy to him. I understand you.
Când sfătuia-n parabole, But he was a native Dacian.
el nu zicea: „Trăieşte pentru alţii” sau „Fii om”, When he advised through parables,
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ci „Fii izvor”, „Fii fulger”. he wasn’t saying “live for others” or “be a man”,
Şi oare dumnezeul orb al său e altceva rather “be a spring”, “be lightning”.
decât ăst fel al Firei şi al dacilor— And maybe this blind god of his is something else
sălbatic, chinuit, orb, straniu şi veşnic frământat? other than this kind of the Being’s and that of the Dacians—
O, nu. Aicea nu mă simt împrejmuit de oameni, wild, tormented, blind, strange, eternally tried?
ci aşa de mult în mijlocul naturii, Oh, no. I don’t feel surrounded by people,
încât mă mir că ei au nu mănunchi de muşchi pe cap but rather so in the middle of nature
în loc de păr—ca stâncile. that I wonder how they haven’t tufts of moss on the tops of their
heads
instead of hair—like the rocks.
MAGUL MAGUS
(viclean) (slyly)
Da, mă duce amintirea la Zamolxe păduraticul. Yes, the memory takes me back to Zalmoxis the wild man of the
wood.
Nevinovata turmă l-a răstălmăcit, The blameless flock has so distorted him
că azi nici el nu s-ar cunoaşte. that today even he wouldn’t recognize himself.
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CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
O, crede-mă, O, believe me,
cu inima l-au priceput şi-i sunt aproape. with their hearts they understand him and even now are close
Dar dacii au închipuire de copii. to him.
But Dacians have the imaginations of children.
MAGUL MAGUS
Dac-ar trăi cum a râvnit Zamolxe, If they would live like Zalmoxis wished them to,
ei s-ar mistui ca focul. they would consume themselves like fire.
Copiilor le trebuie vis blând să-i liniştească, Children need a gentle dream to calm them—
şi lumină să le ţie-n frâu pornirea, and light to stop them from bolting, to hold back
zăgaz puterilor ce colcăie-n pământul lor, forces that swarm in their earth
prea rodnic în izvoare turburi. too fertile in troubled wellsprings.
CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
De-i vorba despre linişte, îţi dau dreptate,-nalte-preot. If it would be a question of peace, I give you the right, High
Dar de ce e linişte? Priest.
But—why peace?
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MAGUL MAGUS
O întrebare căreia-i răspund prin altă întrebare: A question I will answer with another question:
De ce furtună oarbă? why a blind storm?
CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
(şovăind) (hesitating)
Nu ştiu. I don’t know.
MAGUL MAGUS
Nici eu nu ştiu. I don’t know either.
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CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
Ai crede că răcoarea coboară-ncet You would think the coolness descends slowly
din calea laptelui From the Milky Way
ca dintr-un fluviu uriaş. Cetatea nu-i departe. like a giant river. The fortress is not far.
Te-ai gândit vreodată, Magule? Did you ever once think, Magus?
Magule, ce-ar fi să se întoarcă într-o zi Magus, what would it be like should Zalmoxis return one day
Zamolxe—omul? —the man?
MAGUL MAGUS
(hotărât) (decisively)
Piere el sau poporul! Either he would perish or the people would.
CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
Sau el şi poporul! Or he and the people both.
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106
Un deal cu o râpă de lut roşu şi cu şuviţa unui izvor. În A hill with a precipice of red clay and a curling stream of water from
stânga se văd turnurile şi zidurile cetăţii. În dreapta începe a wellspring. On the left, towers and walls of the fortress. On the right
pădure de stejar. În faţă o livadă cu iarbă mare şi stânci. Dis- starts an oak forest. In the foreground, an orchard with tall grass and
de-dimineaţă. Mult soare. rocks. Early morning. Much sun.
CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
(Şade sub un stejar pe o stâncă. Pletele cărunte pe umeri. (The Woodcarver is sitting on a rock beneath an oak tree. White braids
Plăsmuieşte în lut o mică făptură omenească. Lucrează on his shoulders. He is creating a small human likeness out of clay. He
fluierând.) is whistling as he works. )
ZEMORA ZEMORA
(Tânără şi sălbatică—ciulini în părul despletit—se furişează (young and wild, thistles in her unbraided hair, creeps in from the
din pădure la spatele Cioplitorului şi-l gâdilă în plete cu un forest behind the Woodcarver and tickles his braids with a long blade
fir lung de iarbă.) of grass.)
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CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
(Ridică fruntea, dar nu se întoarce. Ghiceşte:) (raises his brow, but doesn’t turn. He guesses.)
ZEMORA ZEMORA
Şi una, şi alta. Căci Zemora turburătoarea The one and the other. Because the wild Zemora
iubeşte iarba şi soarele loves the grass and the sun
viu ca lăcustele alive like the locust,
şi-ar vrea să aibă picioarele and she would want to have legs
tot atât de verzi, as green,
verzi ca lăcustele green like the locust
sau ca lintea bălţilor. or the marsh pod.
CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
Ştiai că mă găseşti aici? Did you know you would find me—here?
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ZEMORA ZEMORA
Suind cărarea, ţi-am văzut în lut Climbing the path I saw your footprints in the clay.
urmele tălpilor. Aşa, în şir. Like so, in a row.
Credeam întâi că-s urme de... măgar. At first I was thinking they are the tracks of a... donkey
Auzi pădurea? Numai eu ştiu cum s-o fac să râdă. Do you hear the forest? Only I know how to make it laugh
Auzi cum râde? Ca un copil mic Do you hear how it laughs? Like a little kid
pe care-l gâdili la buric. when you tickle his belly button.
CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
(dă din cap) (nodding)
Zemora, Zemora! Zemora, Zemora!
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ZEMORA ZEMORA
Ce plămădeşti în lut? What are you creating out of clay?
CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
Un chip al lui Zamolxe. A likeness of Zalmoxis.
ZEMORA ZEMORA
L-am auzit de multe ori pe Zamolxe. I have heard Zalmoxis speak many times
Din cele ce grăia nu pricepeam prea multe. though I didn’t understand too much of what he spoke.
Dar ochii lui erau aşa de mari, But his eyes were so big
că trebuia să mă opresc şi să-l ascult. that I had to stop and listen to him.
O dată-l întâlnii pe-aici pe undeva-n pădure, One time I met him somewhere here in the forest
singur. alone.
1 See Alexander Fol’s Orphica Magica. Sofia: University “St. Cl. Ohridski”, 2004.
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Îi luai din mâna coşniţa I took the basket from his hand
şi am proptit-o într-un par deasupra roiului, and I propped it up on a pole over the swarm
ca o căciulă. like a hat.
El privea tăcut. He watched quietly.
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CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
Poate din una şi aceeaşi groaznică lumină. Maybe from one and the same awesome light.
Fiinţe gemene. Twin beings.
ZEMORA ZEMORA
Apoi Zamolxe fugi în codru. Roiul l-a uitat acolo. Afterwards Zalmoxis ran into the forest. He forgot the swarm
Iar la patru zile a urmat there
nenorocirea lui: livada-aceasta. while on the fourth day followed
misfortune from this orchard.
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CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
(îi întinde micul chip de lut) (he offers her the small clay figurine)
Zemora, spune-mi; seamănă cu prinzătorul tău Zemora, tell me, does this resemble your
de roiuri? bee-catcher?
ZEMORA ZEMORA
(privind de aproape chipul) (looking closely at the figure)
Zamolxe-a fost prea mult privire, Zalmoxis was too much to behold,
iar aceasta-i prea mult om. while this is too much man.
(Linguşitoare:) (flatterringly)
CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
(îşi ia chipul) (taking back the figurine)
Nu. E pentr-un altar de casă. No. It is for a house altar.
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ZEMORA ZEMORA
(supărată) (upset)
Pentr-un altar de casă? For a house altar?
Al cui? Whose?
CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
Al marelui-diregător. The great leader’s.
Uitaşi că mâine-i sărbătoarea zeilor necunoscuţi? Have you forgotten tomorrow is is the holiday in honor of the
unknown gods?
ZEMORA ZEMORA
Vrei să pleci? Do you want to leave?
CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
Mă duc spre casă, să mai poleiesc I am going home to polish
statuia lui Zamolxe, cea de marmoră. the statue of Zalmoxis some more, the one of marble.
Tu încotro? Which way are you headed?
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(ia în braţe un cocoloş de lut.) (he takes a lump of clay in his arms.)
ZEMORA ZEMORA
În sus, să-mi usc sandalele Up there, to dry my sandals
la soare. Sunt umede de rouă. in the sun. They are damp with dew.
CIOPLITORUL WOODCARVER
Tot spre soare, tot spre soare? Still to the sun, ever to the sun?
ZEMORA ZEMORA
Tot spre soare şi-n pădure! Ever toward the sun and into the forest!
(Cioplitorul dispare pe cărăruie în stânga, iar Zemora în (The Woodcarver disappears on a path stage left, while Zemora, into
pădure.) the woods.)
(Pauză. Cântec de paseri.) (A pause. Birdsong.)
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
(din altă parte a pădurei, soseşte în livadă, luminos. O (In another part of the forest Zalmoxis arrives in the orchard,
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Livada-n care m-au lovit. The orchard where they struck me.
Potecile-acelaşi. Cetate, eşti aici? The paths are the same. Fortress, are you here?
Pleoapele-mi se zbat de cerul tău My eyelids struggle against your sky
ca nişte fluturi de-o fereastră. like butterflies against the window pane.
Nu-i numai poveste? Sunt aici? Is it not just an illusion? Am I really here?
Cu palma pipăi scoarţa asprului copac I feel the sharp bark of the tree
şi simt că sunt aievea. and I can feel that I am actually here.
Fruct copt m-am rupt din creanga unui dumnezeu Like a ripe fruit I broke myself from the branch of a god
şi cad aici, and fall here
în pragul tău, cetate! on your threshold, fortress!
Unde ţi-e rugul? Where is your stake?
M-aştepţi? Mai ai vreun prieten pentru mine? Do you wait for me? Do you have another friend for me?
Unde ţi-s spinii? Cu ce mâni primi-vei soarele, Where are your thorns? With what hands will you receive the
ce ţi-l cobor din piscuri sun
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Nădejdea mea e încă tot cu ochii My hope is ever wide-eyed toward the future.
mari deschişi spre viitor. Cred mult. I believe many things.
Sunt răbduriu. I am patient.
(Îşi îndreaptă ochii cercetători spre cărare.) (He directs his searching gaze toward the path)
Livada-n care m-au lovit. The orchard where they struck me.
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Oricum ar fi, nu mă-nspăimânt, How ever it will be, I shall fear not—
şi, greu de viaţă şi de gândul morţii, and heavy with life, and the thought of death
îmi azvârl destinul între zidurile tale, I hurl my destiny into your walls,
tainică cetate! secret fortress.
Munţii vin cu mine. The mountains come with me.
(Se opreşte şi ascultă. Un cântec s-aude din stejeriş.) He stops and listens. A song is heard from the oak forest.
118
119
(Zemora reapare în livadă, cu un mănunchi de flori.) (Zemora reappears in the orchard with a bunch of flowers)
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
(uimit) (amased)
Întâiul om. De şapte ani, întâiul om The first human. After seven years the first human
îmi mângâie vederea. Caresses my sight.
ZALMOXE ZALMOXIS
Fecioară, proaspătă ca dimineţile de toamnă, Maiden, as fresh as autumn mornings,
ce cântec spui? what song are you saying?
ZEMORA ZEMORA
Tu eşti străin pe-aici, You are a stranger to these parts,
Ciobanii-l fluieră de mult, for the shepherds have long played it on their flutes,
iar vorbele i le-a scornit Madùra while the bard, Madura
cântăreţul. made up the words.
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ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
Îl cunoscui pe vremuri. Mai trăieşte? I used to know him, a long time ago. Is he still alive?
A murit? Has he died?
ZEMORA ZEMORA
Trăia în cetăţuia lui, tot singur, He lived in his little citadel, all alone,
până ce-şi ucise sufletul. Until he murdered his own soul.
Nu ştie nimenea de ce. Oameni spun No one knows why. People say
că într-o noapte-au auzit that one night they had heard the sound of
copite de-argint pe drum în jos. silver hoofbeats on the road below.
Asemenea chitarelor sunt drumurile: Likewise guitars are roads,
cu cât mai vechi, răsună mai frumos. the older they are, the more beautiful the sound.
Şi-apoi în colb de lună And then in moon-dust
s-a văzut un roib în goană. an auburn stallion galloped out
Fără de stăpân în şea, without a rider in the saddle
se întorcea splinatic la castel. and made back for the castle at breakneck speed.
Legată cu o funie de coadă, Tied to his tail a harp
târa în urma lui o harfă—ca un mort. dragged at the end of a rope—like a dead man.
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ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
Aşa mor cântăreţii daci. That is how the Dacian bards die.
ZEMORA ZEMORA
(mişcată) (affected)
Nu-ţi pare că auzi amarul râs Are you not saddened by the bitter laughter
al celui care nu mai vrea să se întoarcă în viaţă of one who no longer wants to return to life
şi-şi trimite calul singur înapoi? and sends his horse back alone?
Şi nu vezi roibul biciuit sălbatic And do you not see the auburn horse whipped into a frenzy
de căderi de stele? Pe drum în jos by falling stars? –on the road below
târăşte-n urma lui o harfă a harp drags behind him
ca un mort. like a corpse.
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
Din partea mea-l pricep aşa de bine For my part, all too well do I know
pe Madùra. Madura.
122
ZEMORA ZEMORA
Le duc la templu. Opreşte-te şi tu-n cetate I am taking them to the temple. You should stop and rest in the
pentr-o zi, străinule. E sărbătoare-n zori. fortress
Poporul o s-aşeze-n sanctuar for a day, stranger. At dawn begins a holiday.
statuia lui Zamolxe. The people will dedicate a statue of the
Eu îi mai jertfesc şi miere. god Zalmoxis in the sanctuary.
Când a fost pe-aici, l-am învăţat I will make an offering of honey in his name.
să prindă roiuri. When he was among us, I taught him
how to catch swarms of bees.
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
(Rămâne împietrit, cu ochi turburi îndreptaţi spre cetate.) Zalmoxis remains dumbfounded, staring with troubled eyes toward
the fortress.
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II
O uliţă în cetate. Noapte. Lună An alleyway behind the fortress. Night. The moon is shining.
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
(trece cu capul aplecat) ( passes with his head bowed.)
Cântă cocoşii-de-munte. The mountain birds are singing.
Prietenii unde-mi sunt? Where are my friends?
Nu-i mai găsesc. I will not find them.
Troscoţel a crescut prin ogrăzile lor Bramble has overgrown their orchards
şi iarbă pe vetrele lor. and grass now covers their hearths.
Nu mai bate inimă! Beat no more, Heart!
Căderi pe ape s-aud din vale, You can hear the rush of waterfall in the valley,
ori poate-s adieri din râul morţilor. or perhaps it is only the breeze of the river of the dead.
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Eu o arunc, şi totuşi e mai mare decât mine. I cast it from me and still it is greater than I am.
Adieri din râul morţilor. Breezes from the river of the dead.
Şi iaraşi cântă cocoşii-de-munte. And once more sing the mountain birds.
Inimă, Heart,
taci! be silent.
(Dispare. Pe urma lui se furişează Ghebosul, iscodind.) (He disappears. The hunchback trails quickly behind him.)
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III
În templu. Un perete lateral al templului formează fondul. In the temple. A lateral wall represents the background.The six
Altarul, nevăzut, în stânga; în formă de potcoavă sunt aşezate principal gods are arranged in a horseshoe on pedastals. One is
piedestale cu statuile celor şase zei principali; unul dintre aceştia, larger than the rest, and has the head of a bull. The sacrificial altar
mai mare, are cap de bour. În mijlocul potcoavei altarul de jertfă. is in the center. One pedestal is empty. Two tall brass-colored
Un piedestal e liber fără statuie. Mai spre dreapta, două columne pillars support the vault. The temple entrance is to the right but
puternice de culoare arămie sprijinesc bolta. Intrarea în templu e unseen. Sacrifices in rows of small graven images are along the
în dreapta, dar nu se vede. Jertfelnice şi un şir întreg de zei back wall. A vague light reflects from above. Candles burn on the
mărunţi lîngă peretele din fund. Lumină vagă se răsfrânge de sus. altar.
Flăcări ard pe altar şi-n jertfelnice. Templul e gol. The temple is empty.
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
(Intră singur din dreapta. Ochii aprinşi. Se opreşte lângă (Zalmoxis enters stage right. His eyes are bright. He stops next
columna din faţă.) to the column upstage. In the distance the sound of yelling.)
(S-aud strigăte depărtate.)
Mulţimea-i adunată-ntru slăvirea mea. The masses are gathered in my glory.
Pe lângă ea trecui şi m-a privit cu ochi streini. I walked past them and they looked at me with strange
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MAGUL MAGUS
(A ieşit din altar în odăjdii de in alb şi, punând tămâie în (Magus comes out of the altar in white vestments and notices
jertfelnice, vede pe strein.) the stranger, while putting incense on the altar table.)
Streinule, ai îndrăznit? You there, Stranger! How dare you?
Nu ţi-a fost frică să treci pragul Did you not fear to cross this threshold
înainte de-a intra statuia lui Zamolxe? before the statue of Zalmoxis enters?
Nimănui dintre profani No one among the profane
nu i se-ngăduie ăst pas. would take such steps.
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ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
(Tace.) (remains silent.)
MAGUL MAGUS
(S-apropie, îl ţinteşte cu privirea şi parcă şi-ar aduce aminte.) (Magus draws near, eyes him as though he remembers.)
O, norii turburi ai acestor ochi. O, the troubled gaze of these eyes.
Aşa schimbat? Aici? Din nou aici? So changed? Here? Here again?
Şi tocmai azi? And today of all days?
De ce te-ai întors? De ce te-ai întors? But why have you returned? Why have you come back?
Poporul se răzbună The people are rioting
fără să vrea, fără să ştie. without wanting, without knowing why.
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ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
(cu un hohot) (laughing)
Şi tu, tu eşti preotul meu! And you, you are my priest!
Ha-ha, de necrezut! Ce răzbunare blestemată! Ha—ha, unbelievable! What an accursed rebellion!
MAGUL MAGUS
Aşa de tânăr tu ai sămânţat un gând, So young were you when you sowed a thought.
şi rodul nu l-ai aşteptat. E greu să-l schimbi. and you did not expect such a fruit to flower. It is difficult
Dintr-un ogor răsare ceea ce sameni, to change.
Dar din inimi nu. You surely reap what you sow from a field,
but from a human heart, no.
Aci pui grâu şi cresc cireşi. Here you plant wheat, and cherries grow.
(Linguşitor:) (flatteringly)
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(Aspru:) (bitterly)
Pleacă înapoi! Altarul n-are trepte! Go back! The altar has no steps!
Eşti sus—zadarnic cerci: nu poţi You are high above us—but in vain you search—you can
să-l mai cobori. never
Răzvrătire? take him down.
Împotriva cui? Rebellion?
Azi nu mai ai nici un vrăjmaş, Against whom?
poporul ţi se-nchină, Today you have no enemies left,
şi eu-s preotul tău! the people worship you—
and I, I am your priest!
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ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
Tu eşti preotul meu! You are my priest!
Ha-ha! Dar n-o să plec. Ha-ha! But I will not leave this place.
Mă-mplânt aici în lespezi. I will hurl myself upon these stone slabs.
Fulgere, cu pumnii încleştaţi vă strâng! Lightning, with my clenched fist will I squeeze you!
MAGUL MAGUS
O, dumnezeul tău e orb, O, your god is blind—
şi tu, biet tânăr, i-ai luat and you, poor youth have taken
pe umeri soarta. fate upon your shoulders.
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
Şi soarta-aceasta mă face să lovesc. And this fate makes me strike out.
MAGUL MAGUS
Norodul nu va crede că eşti tu. The people will not believe it is you.
Loveşti? Pe cine? Ai vreun duşman? You strike out? At whom? Have you an enemy?
Doar vremea, vremea care-a aşezat Only time, time—who has set
piatră cu piatră, şi ţi-a ridicat stone upon stone and raised
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ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
C-un bici de fulger With a whip of lightning
voi întoarce vremea înapoi, Will I turn back time and after—
şi mâine va fi ieri! tomorrow too will be today!
Dintr-un adânc striga-voi de pe ţărmul meu stingher, From the deep I will call out from my lonesome shore
şi vremea se va trage înapoi, and time will turn back
ca marea când o cheamă luna. like the sea when the moon beckons it.
Şi-atunci m-apropiu de urechea ta And then I will draw close to your ear and
şi-ţi zic: tell you:
„Grăbeşte-te, make haste—
îngroapă-ţi zeii, cioclule bătrân! bury your gods, old undertaker!
E plin de hoituri cerul tău! Your sky is full of rotting corpses!
MAGUL MAGUS
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Se vor găsi şi oameni cari să-ţi dea You will find people who will give you
o pâine şi un strop de vin a crust of bread and drop of wine
din toamna lor răscoaptă. from their overripe harvest.
Rămăşiţele ce prisosesc Likewise, will you receive the remains
de la altarul tău left over on your altar by
de asemenea le vei primi din îndurarea mea. my mercy.
Am lacrime de milă pentru tine. Tears of pity have I for you.
O, nu-ncerca a doua oară furia norodului. O, do not try the fury of your people a second time.
Eu nu sunt rău, dar pleacă unde ştii! I am not evil, but you should leave this place.
Ca cerşetor mai poţi să vii You can always come back as a beggar—
aci, pe treptele acestui templu, Here, upon the steps of this temple
când eşti flămând, when you are hungry
şi viscolul se va-ncălzi sub zdreanţa ta! and the snowstorm will warm beneath your ragged cloak.
(Zamolxe se clatină şi se sprijineşte de columnă. Zdrobit de Zalmoxis shakes so with emotion that he must steady himself
strigătele mulţimei care se apropie de templu: „ Èhove, èhove, against the column. He is overcome by the shouts of the multitude
Zamolxe!” Ciobanul şi-un alt dac aduc pe umeri statuia zeului that approach the temple; “Ehove, ehove, Zalmoxis!” The
Zamolxe şi-o aşează pe piedestalul gol. Popor mult s-adună. Locul Shepherd and another Dacian carry the statue of Zalmoxis on
unde e Zamolxe. Omul rămâne însă aproape gol. Tot timpul their shoulders and put it down on the empty pedestal. Many
cântă.) people gather, yet where Zalmoxis is standing, there is no one
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MAGUL MAGUS
(În faţa statuilor) (in front of the statues)
Din praful ud, From wet dust
de vinul sfânt, Of holy wine
statuia albă, ridicaţi-o pe altar! Raise the white statue upon the altar!
Cădeţi, cădeţi! Fall to your knees, fall down!
(Poporul îngenunchează. Magul ridică braţele spre statuia lui (The people kneel. Magus raises his arms in supplication to the
Zamolxe.) statue.)
MAGUL MAGUS
Întoarce-te, Zamolxe-ntre stăpânii cei dintâi Turn back, Zalmoxis, from the first masters
ai gândurilor, brazdelor, of thought, of the furrowed earth,
luminei şi ai apelor! of light and of the waters!
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(pleacă spre altarul nevăzut din stânga) (moves to the altar unseen.)
Ieşiţi, fecioare! Jocul sacru să înceapă! Maidens, come all, begin the sacred dance!
(Şase fecioare, în frunte cu Zemora, vin în faţa statuilor divine şi Six maidens led by Zemora come in front of the divine statues.
se închină pe rând fiecare la câte unul din cei şase zei) Each one bows down in turn to each of the six statues.
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ZEMORA ZEMORA
(la statuia lui Zamolxe) (at the statue of Zalmoxis)
Miere-ţi jertfesc Honey I offer you
în scrum şi-n jeratic, in ash and ember,
Ţie—stupar To you—beekeeper
etern păduratic! eternal wild man of the woods!
(Începe jocul fecioarelor, însoţit de chitare din altar. În vremea The dance of the maidens begins, joined by guitars from the altar.
asta) Meanwhile:
ZAMOLXE ZALMOXIS
(tot lângă columnă, după ce-a privit tulburat) ( still standing beside the column, having watched on with
worry.)
Mă-năbuş. Friguri în vârtej I am smothered. Fevers in a whirpool
îmi scutură din temeile cerul. shakes me from the foundations of heaven.
Nu-i trupul meu un cer? Is not my body in the sky?
Dar stelele, stelele chiar, But the stars, the actual stars,
pe care altădată le-am iubit, that I so loved in another time,
mi s-ar părea amare azi. would seem to me today bitter.
Otravă verde picură din ele-n cupa mea, Green poison trickles from them into my cup
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ca din strivite capete de şerpi. as though from the crushed heads of snakes.
Zeule Zamolxe, cât eşti de alb, zăpadă! Zalmoxis, the god, how white you are like snow!
Dar visul meu e cald şi te topesc. But my dream is warm and I will melt you.
Aici sunt eu Here am I
şi omenescul meu gând. with my human thought.
Acolo? And there?
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(Se aruncă asupra statuiei sale şi o doboară cu pumnii. Poporul, He throws himself onto his statue and tumbles it down with his
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îngenuncheat, îl priveşte nenţelegător, se ridică. Tumult. S-aud fists. The people, kneeling all around look on with confusion. They
strigate: „Statuia”, „Zeul”, „Spart”, „Altarul pângărit”, „O, stand. There is chaos, and shouting: “The Statue,” “The god”.
vai!”, „Ucideţi-l!” Vreo câţiva ciobani se reped asupra lui “Broken”, “Violated altar”, “Woe”, “Kill him”. A couple of
Zamolxe, îl răstoarnă şi-l trăsnesc cu bucăţi din statuia spartă. shepherds rush over to Zalmoxis and heave him over. They pelt
Din mulţime iese.) him viciously with broken pieces of his statue. The Hunchback
emerges from the crowd. He hurries beside the dead Zalmoxis and
then turns harshly to the crowd.
GHEBOSUL HUNCHBACK
(se furişează lângă trupul mort şi se-ntoarce spre norod cu un (rushes to the dead body and turns to the people with a cry)
rânjet)
A doua oară a venit între voi This is the second time he has come among you
şi nu l-aţi cunoscut. and you didn’t recognize him.
Ochi ca ai lui, nimenea n-a mai avut, He has eyes unlike no other
şi nu l-aţi cunoscut. and yet, you knew him not.
Apropiaţi-vă, priviţi-l! Come closer, behold him!
V-aţi ucis pe Zamolxe cu statuia lui, You have murdered Zalmoxis with his own statue,
nemernici! scoundrels!
(Uimire şi câteva ţipete. Toţi se adună în jurul celui mort. Apoi (Astonishment and some cries. All gather around the dead man.
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