Assignment 9

Analyse the English versions of the following poem by Ștefan Augustin Doinaș. First, you are to analyse the SL poem starting from its integration into a specific literary period and trend, continuing with its integration into Doinaș’s literary work and ending with a detailed analysis of its denotative and connotative content and of its fixed form. Then you have to compare the rendition of all these elements in the TL versions.

MISTREŢUL CU COLŢI DE ARGINT

de Ştefan Augustin Doinaş (1922-2002)

Un prinţ din Levant îndrăgind vînătoarea prin inimă neagră de codru trecea. Croindu-şi cu greu prin hăţişuri cărarea, cînta dintr-un flaut de os şi zicea: - Veniţi să vînăm în păduri nepătrunse mistreţul cu colţi de argint, fioros, ce zilnic îşi schimbă în scorburi ascunse copita şi blana şi ochiul sticlos... - Stăpîne, ziceau servitorii cu goarne, mistreţul acela nu vine pe-aici. Mai bine s-abatem vînatul cu coarne, ori vulpile roşii, ori iepurii mici ... Dar prinţul trecea zîmbitor înainte privea printre arbori atent la culori, lăsînd în culcuş căprioara cuminte şi linxul ce rîde cu ochi sclipitori. Sub fagi el dădea buruiana-ntr-o parte: - Priviţi cum se-nvîrte făcîndu-ne semn mistreţul cu colţi de argint, nu departe: veniţi să-l lovim cu săgeata de lemn!... - Stăpîne, e apa jucînd sub copaci, zicea servitorul privindu-l isteţ. Dar el răspundea întorcîndu-se: - Taci... Şi apa sclipea ca un colţ de mistreţ. Sub ulmi, el zorea risipite alaiuri: - Priviţi cum pufneşte şi scurmă stingher, mistreţul cu colţi de argint, peste plaiuri: veniţi să-l lovim cu săgeata de fier!...

- Stăpîne, e iarba foşnind sub copaci, zicea servitorul zîmbind îndrăzneţ. Dar el răspundea întorcîndu-se: - Taci... Şi iarba sclipea ca un colţ de mistreţ. Sub brazi, el striga îndemnîndu-i spre creste: - Priviţi unde-şi află odihnă şi loc mistreţul cu colţi de argint, din poveste: veniţi să-l lovim cu săgeata de foc!... - Stăpîne, e luna lucind prin copaci, zicea servitorul rîzînd cu dispreţ. Dar el răspundea întorcîndu-se: - Taci... Şi luna sclipea ca un colţ de mistreţ. Dar vai! Sub luceferii palizi ai bolţii cum sta în amurg, la izvor aplecat, veni un mistreţ uriaş, şi cu colţii îl trase sălbatic prin colbul roşcat. - Ce fiară ciudată mă umple de sînge, oprind vînătoarea mistreţului meu? Ce pasăre neagră stă-n lună şi plînge? Ce veştedă frunză mă bate mereu?... - Stăpîne, mistreţul cu colţi ca argintul, chiar el te-a cuprins, grohăind, sub copaci. Ascultă cum latră copoii gonindu-l... Dar prinţul răspunse-ntorcîndu-se. - Taci. Mai bine ia cornul şi sună întruna. Să suni pînă mor, către cerul senin... Atunci asfinţi după creştete luna şi cornul sună, însă foarte puţin. (1945)

THE SILVER-TUSKED BOAR

Version by Paul Abucean

A prince from the East with a fondness for hunting through forests of darkness was trudging his way. While striving and toiling a pathway to render, a flute he was playing and this he would say: "Oh come, let us hunt in mysterious forests the silver-tusked boar that is stalwart and sly; in secretive hiding he daily reshuffles his hoof and his fur and his glistening eye... " "My Lord", said his servants, his yeomen and huntsmen, "that boar is not known to have roamed around here. So what we should chase are those flamy-furred foxes, or frolicky rabbits, or fidgety deer..." The prince did not listen, he just went on smiling and gazing at colors, in constant advance. He heeded no doedeer, he minded no stagdeer, he never afforded the lynxes a glance. He pushed off the weeds as he stood under beechtrees: "Oh, look how he's whirling, in turbulent mood! The silver-tusked boar is no doubt very near us! Come on, let us smite him with arrows of wood!" "My Lord, 'tis the water, reflecting the light rays", his cunning retainer was quick to remark. "Enough!", he retorted, beholding the water that gleamed like the tusk of a boar in the dark. He goaded the men as he stood under elmtrees: "Oh, look how he burrows, himself to conceal! The silver-tusked boar, how he's huffing and puffing! Come on, let us smite him with arrows of steel!"

"My Lord, it is only the rustle of grasses", replied the retainer, increasingly stark. "Enough!", he retorted, beholding the grasses that gleamed like the tusk of a boar in the dark. He further emboldened the men under firtrees: "Oh, look where he seeks to escape and retire, the silver-tusked boar of the legends and stories! Come on, let us smite him with arrows of fire!" "My Lord, it is merely the shimmering moonlight", the sneering retainer did scornfully bark. "Enough!", he retorted, beholding the moonlight that gleamed like the tusk of a boar in the dark. But woe! at the spring, as his thirst he was quenching, as over the water he leaned in the dusk, a boar most enormous sprang up out of nowhere and savagely gored him with murderous tusk. "What beast so ferocious is bleeding my bosom, aborting the hunt of my coveted boar? What ominous fowl on the moon is now weeping? What leaf is upon me, all withered and sore?" "My Lord", said his servant, "Your Lordship fell prey to the silver-tusked boar that Your Lordship pursued. The hounds are still barking and trying to get him..." "Enough!", he retorted, forlorn and subdued. "I wish that you blew toward heaven your horn now, till heaven receives me in it on that tune ..." Beyond the horizon, the pale moon was sinking. The hunting horn sounded, then quieted soon.

THE SILVER-FANGED BOAR

Version: by Andrei Bantaș

A prince of the East, with good hunting in love, through dark heart of forest was threading his way. Although through the thickets ’twas painful to move he played on his bone flute and his men he’d pray: “Come over, to hunt, in the forests untrodden, the wild boar with silvery fangs, deadly fierce, its hoof, fur and vitreous eyes, apt to pierce.” “Dear Lord,” said his servants and bugle men tame, “that wild boar does never to this place repair. Let’s rather bring this way the rich-antlered game, or reddish-furred fox, or some little field hare…” His highness, however, passed on with a smile and looked through the trees with an eye for the hues, while sparing the sleep of the doe without guile and lynxes whose eyes always sparkle with ruse. ‘mong hornbeams he trod evil weeds to the ground: “Behold! Signs are made in our close neighbourhood! The silver boar’s calling, while prowling around. Come over, let’s hit him with arrows of wood!” “But Lord, it’s just water at play under trees.” a beater protested, his shrewd glance a bore. Yet turning, his highness replied just “Hush please!…” And water kept sparkling like fangs of a boar. ‘mong elms he would urge on his scattering train; “Just look how the silver-fanged boar, lonley scion, is snorting and routing the grass in the plain! Come over let’s hit him with arrows of iron!”

“But Lord, it’s just grass which is rustling ‘mong trees,” the servant put in with a smile — bold and raw. The prince would insist, though, and answer “Hush please!” The grass was now sparkling like fangs of a boar, ‘mong fir-trees he urged them to climb to the crest: “Just look at the fairy-tale boar and admire the silver-fanged being’s abode, haunt and nest!” “But Lord, it’s the moon that is beaming through trees,” the underling laughed and despised him e’en more. Yet, turning, his highness replied just “Hush please!” he moon was now sparkling like fangs of a boar. But woe! As pale luminaries of the vault watched over the prince, on him pounced at a thrust a huge boar whose fangs, in a savage assault, soon dragged the prince down through the reddish-brown dust. “What could be the strange beast that stains me with gore, thus stopping the chase for my silver-fanged boar? What bird in the moon can be weeping so sore? What sere leaf keeps flapping at me ever more?” “Oh Lord! It’s the silvery boar’s fangs which glisten! It’s he that has caught you and grunts under trees. You’ll hear now the hounds have at him, if you listen!” Yet turning, his highness replied just “Hush please! But pick up your horn and with never a stop, Sound up to the clear sky until I’ve died, blow!” ’twas then that the moon set behind a hill top. Indeed the horn blew, but soon ceased sounding, though.

THE SILVER-FANGED BOAR

Version: Daniel Ioniță

A Levantine prince, quite enamoured with hunting, some dark-hearted forest was travelling through. And making his path with great effort and grunting, said he, while on bone-flute he merrily blew: – Let’s hunt through these forests, untrodden and daunting, the silver-fanged boar who’s ferocious and wild; who changes his fur every day as he’s moulting, and changes his hooves, and his glass eye reviled.... – Oh master, the servants with trumpets would say, that bloodthirsty boar does not travel through here. It’s better to chase down the antlers to slay, or red coloured foxes, or hares that are near.... But smiling and certain the prince passed ahead and carefully gazing on trees and their hues, he left in his lair the young deer full of dread, and the sparkly eyed lynx who'll smile for a ruse. Through beech woods he’d trample old weeds to the ground: – Just look how he turns! We have closed in for good... on this silver-fanged boar, not too far, hear his sound; come over, let’s hit him with arrows of wood!... – My lord, it’s the stream through the woods, tall and lush, the smart servant said, as he laughed with a roar. But the prince turned around and replied only: – Hush... And the water would shine like the fang of a boar. Under elm trees he’d hasten his scattered old train: – You see how he’s puffing alone and unreal, the silver-fanged boar over meadow and plain; come over, let’s hit him with arrows of steel!

– My lord, it’s the grass that with boots we would brush, The bold-looking servant would say like before. But the prince turned around to reply only: – Hush... And the glistening grass seemed like fangs of a boar. Under firs, he would cry pushing them t’ward the peak: – You see where he’s finding his lair and his shire, the boar from old tales, of which old people speak; come over, let’s hit him with arrows of fire. – My lord, it’s the moonlight which night fears can’t quash, the servant said laughing, despising and sore. But turning around the prince only said: – Hush... And the moonlight shone bright, like the fangs of a boar. Alas! under rays of the pale stars at dusk, as he crouched for a drink, his knees slowly sagged, there charged a huge boar with his piercing sharp tusk and the prince through the red dust he savagely dragged. – What strange looking beast so blood-thirsty and vicious, is stopping the hunt for my silver-fanged boar? What black bird is crying in moonlight so listless? What wilted old leaf shakes my soul to its core?... – My master, that boar with the fangs like of silver, that same had you pierced, and with blood you’re awash. He’s chased now by dogs, can’t you hear?, by the river... But turning, the prince whispered quietly: – Hush. You take the old horn, and just blow without pause To sound till I’m dead, t’ward the sky clear and prime… Right then from the ridges a big moon arose, and the horn made its sound for a very short time.