Octavian Paler--We Have Time

Octavian Paler wasn't exactly a poet, but he occasionally felt the need to express himself through poetry. One of the most brilliant Romanian intellectuals of the past century, he slowly evolved towards a wisdom of deceptive simplicity. The following poem is meant to share that accumulated wisdom with others, I think. There was no room for linguistic betrayals here--no specials rhyme and rhythm patterns, not even striking metaphors. Rather, a wise avuncular figure sharing with you lessons of a lifetime. Listen and learn.

OCTAVIAN PALER Avem timp

OCTAVIAN PALER We have time

Avem timp pentru toate. Sa dormim, sa alergam in dreapta si-n stanga, sa regretam c-am gresit si sa gresim din nou, sa-i judecam pe altii si sa ne absolvim pe noi insine, avem timp sa citim si sa scriem, sa corectam ce-am scris, sa regretam ce-am scris, avem timp sa facem proiecte si sa nu le respectam, avem timp sa ne facem iluzii si sa rascolim prin cenusa lor mai tarziu. Avem timp pentru ambitii si boli, sa invinovatim destinul si amanuntele, avem timp sa privim norii, reclamele sau un accident oarecare, avem timp sa ne-alungam intrebarile, sa amanam raspunsurile, avem timp sa sfaramam un vis si sa-l reinventam, avem timp sa ne facem prieteni, sa-i pierdem, avem timp sa primim lectii si sa le uitam dupa-aceea, avem timp sa primim daruri si sa nu le-ntelegem. Avem timp pentru toate. Nu e timp doar pentru putina tandrete. Cand sa facem si asta, murim.

We have time for everything Sleep, run back and forth, regret we made an error and err again judge others and absolve ourselves, we have time to read and write, edit what we wrote, regret what we wrote, we have time to make projects and never follow through we have time to dwell in illusions and stir through their ashes much later. We have time for ambitions and diseases, to blame destiny and details, we have time to look at the clouds, at the ads, or some random accident, we have time to chase away our questions, postpone our answers, we have time to crush a dream and reinvent it, we have time to make friends, to lose them, we have time to take lessons and forget them soon after, we have time to receive gifts and not understand them. We have time for everything. No time, though, for a little tenderness. When we're about to do that, too, we die.

Edited: I've learned from the octavianpaler.ro website that the second part of the poem (which I now deleted) did not belong to Paler; this, frankly, makes a lot of sense. There was a lot of new-agey, suspiciously "wise" stuff that circulates on websites and email in some form on other. So--this entry has been edited to reflect that!