Nichita Stănescu

Chariot Frieze

QUADRIGA

Suieră o quadrigă pe campia

secundelor mele.

Are patru cai, are doi luptători.

Unul e cu ochii-n frunze, altul

cu ochii în lacrimi.

Unul işi ţine inima înainte, în cai,

altul şi-o tîrăşte peste pietre, în urmă.

Unul strînge frîiele cu mîna dreaptă,

altul tristeţea in braţe.

Unul e neclintit, cu armele, 

celălalt cu amintirile.

Suieră o quadrigă pe cîmpia

secundelor mele.

Are patru cai negri, are doi luptători.

Unul işi ţine viaţa in vulturi,

altul işi ţine viaţa in roţile rostogolite,

şi caii aleargă pînă cînd sparg cu boturile secunda,

aleargă-n afară, aleargă-n afară

şi nu se mai vad.


THE CHARIOT

A chariot is whisling on the plain
of my second.
It has four horses, two fighters.
One is with his eyes in the leaves, the other
with his eyes in tears.
One keeps his heart forth, in the horses,
another one drags it over the stones, behind.
One gathers the reins with his right hand,
another one the sadness in his arms.
One stand still with the weapons,
the other with his memories.
A chariot is whisling on the plain
of my seconds.
It has four black horses, it has two fighters.
One keeps his life in the eagles,
the other keeps his life in the rolling wheels,
and the horses are running, until they break with their muzzles the second,
they are running out, they are running out
and they are seen nomore.