This is a translation of a poem by Fr. Dumitru Ichim.
I would like to thank Gretchen (see her website here) for a suggestion in line 5 below. My first translation said, “All bridges are broken unstoppable…” The meaning was confusing, though, and Gretchen suggested to replace “unstoppable” with “impossible,” and I think this is much better.
The Prodigal Son
|Rembrandt’s The Return of the Prodigal Son|
“The fog slowly is rising around here:
Father, it’s dark, I’m taken by fear!”
“Why? Can you no longer see the road home?”
“My light and my heart are worn; I just roam;
All bridges are broken, impossible,
Because I love myself… the prodigal.
The fog slowly descends from the mountain
Cunningly, to the mill, to the fountain…
Do I just seem to hear the cranes singing?”
“The clouds deceive you: fog they are bringing…”
“Where are you Father? You are a rock beyond choice
And closer to me than my very own voice.
The silence is painful, but I still shout to you!
I am hungry of you, and I’m very cold, too!
– Ceața prin văi se ridică:
Tată, mi-e noapte,Tată mi-e frică!
Nu se mai vede drumul acasă?
– Lumina-i ruptă, inima roasă.
Punțile toate s-au frânt sub dorul
de mine însumi , risipitorul.
Ceața din munte viclean coboară
pe lângă moară, pe lângă moară…
Nu în părere se-aud cocorii?
– Ba da, cu ceață te-nșală norii…
– Unde ești, Tată – nerisipit rămas
cu mult mai aproape ca propriul meu glas?
Doare tăcerea, dar eu tot te strig:
De Tine mi-e foame și, tare mi- frig