THEY HAD TO BEAR A NAME

By Marin Sorescu

Eminescu had not existed.
There was only a beautiful country
On the verge of a sea,
Where the waves made white knots,
Like a king's uncombed beard,
And some rivers running like some flowing trees,
Where the moon had its round nest.
And, above all, there were some simple men
Called: Mircea the Old, Stefan the Great,
Or easier to say: shepherds or ploughmen
Who, at dusk, round the fire,
Loved to tell poems:
"The Ewe-Lamb" and "Hyperion" and "The Third Letter".
But, as they would always hear
Dogs barking around their sheepfolds,
They rose to fight against the tartars,
The Avars, the Huns, the Polish
And the Turkish.
In their leisure time,
Between two dangers,
These men used to transform their shepherds' flutes
Into sewers
For the touched stones' tears
So that the doinas were flowing downstream
From all the mountains of Moldavia and Wallachia,
And from the mountains of the Birsa and Vrancea counties
And those of the other Romanian counties.
There used to be some thick forests, too,
And a young man who kept talking to them,
Asking them why they were swaying without wind.
This young lad, his eyes as big
As our history,
Passed from the Cyrillic book into the life's book
Always counting the poplars of light, justice and love,
Which always came out in odd numbers.
There had also been some linden trees,
And two lovers
Who could snow up all their blossom
In a kiss.
And there used to be some birds or some clouds
Strolling all over their heads
Such as vast and moving plains.

And because all these
Had to bear a name,
A single name,
They were called
EMINESCU.



(Translated from Romanian by Brigitta Daniela Buda)