George Bacovia--Lacustrine

Bacovia is a delicate task to undertake, because his essence is in the somber rhythms; you've got to read his poems aloud, allow yourself to be caught in their dark melody, in the repetitive, monotonous, obsessive rhymes, which are so much a part of his depressive message. He is deceptively simple, and for that matter, so very hard to translate. A lot of his work has, in fact, been translated; however, I was disappointed with many of the solutions the translators came with. Case in point: this is the translation of "Lacustrine" from aboutromania.com (by Tatiana Murzin, apparently), which I'm reproducing below in its entirety:

LACUSTRA de George Bacovia De-atâtea nopti aud plouând, Aud materia plângând... Sunt singur, si mã duce un gând Spre locuintele lacustre. Si parca dorm pe scânduri ude, În spate ma izbeste-un val -- Tresar prin somn si mi se pare Ca n-am tras podul de la mal. Un gol istoric se întinde, Pe-acelasi vremuri ma gasesc... Si simt cum de atâta ploaie Pilotii grei se prabusesc. De-atâtea nopti aud plouând, Tot tresarind, tot asteptând... Sunt singur, si mã duce-un gând Spre locuintele lacustre.

LACUSTRINE by George Bacovia So many nights I've heard the rain, Have heard matter weeping ... I am alone, my mind is drawn Towards lacustrine dwellings. As though I slept on wet boards, A wave will slap me in the back - I start from sleep, and it seems I haven't drawn the bridge from the bank. A void of history extends, I find myself in the same times ... And sense how through so much rain The heavy timber stilts are tumbling. So many nights I've heard the rain, Always starting, always waiting ... I am alone, my mind is drawn Towards lacustrine dwellings ...

The meter, the rhymes, are all wrong. Too many or too few syllables and the wrong emphasis. The hypnotic rhythm of the original is all but lost.

I also translated Lacustrine--long before I ever saw this version--and I did my darndest to preserve that elusive and idiosyncratic cadence Bacovia is so famous for. You be the judge:

LACUSTRINE
by George Bacovia

So many nights I’ve heard the rain,
I’ve heard the matter cry in vain…
I’m lonely, and my putrid brain
Takes me to the lacustrine dwellings.

It seems I sleep on soggy floorboards,
A wave will slap me in my shack—
I shudder in my sleep, and reckon
I didn’t pull the drawbridge back.

An ageless vacuum surrounds me,
I am again under that weather…
And feel the massive rain will cause
The heavy pillars to surrender.

So many nights I’ve heard the rain,
I shudder and I wait in vain…
I’m lonely, and my putrid brain
Takes me to the lacustrine dwellings.

At the very least, I think I preserved the rhyme and rhythm patterns, which are so crucial to experiencing Bacovia--if you want to experience his poetry at all.