"Despre frumusetea uitata a vietii"

de Andrei Plesu

About the forgotten beauty of life

by Andrei Plesu

Daca ma gandesc bine, reprosul

esential pe care il am de facut tarii si
vremurilor este ca ma impiedica sa ma
bucur
de
frumusetea
vietii.

Thinking more, the essential reproach

that I have to make to my country and
to the time being, is that they dont
allow me to enjoy the beauty of life.

Din cand in cand, imi dau seama ca

traiesc intr-o lume fara cer, fara copaci
si gradini, fara extaze bucolice, fara
ape, pajisti si nori. Am uitat misterul
adanc al noptii, radicalitatea amiezii,
racorile cosmice ale amurgului. Nu mai
vad pasarile, nu mai adulmec mirosul
prafos si umed al furtunii, nu mai
percep, asfixiat de emotie, miracolul
ploii si al stelelor. Nu mai privesc in
sus, nu mai am organ pentru parfumuri
si adieri. Fosnetul frunzelor uscate,
transluciditatea nocturna a lacurilor,
sunetul indescifrabil al serii, iarba,
padurea, vitele, orizontul tulbure al
campiei, colina cordiala si muntele
ascetic nu mai fac de mult parte din
peisajul meu cotidian, din echilibrul
igienic al vietii mele launtrice. Nu mai
am timp pentru prietenie, pentru
taclaua voioasa, pentru cheful asezat.

From time to time, I realise that I have

been living into the world with no sky,
trees or gardens, with no bucolic bliss,
water, meadows or clouds. I have
forgotten the deep mystery of the
night, the radicalism of the noon, the
cosmic chill of the twilight. I cant see
birds anymore, I cant catch the whiff
of the dusty wet smell of the storm
anymore, I cant sense anymore, being
suffocated by emotion, the miracle of
the rain and stars. I dont have any
organ to feel the scents and breezes.
The rustle of dead leaves, the nocturnal
translucence of the lakes, the
indeciphrerable sound of the evening,
the grass, the forest, the cattle, the
murky horizon of the field, the
cordially hillock and the ascetic
mountain dont belong anymore, for a
long time, to my quotidian scenary and
to my hygienic balance/ equilibrium of
my inner life. I have no time for
friendship, for the cheerful prattle, for
the peaceful party.
I am busy. I am in a hurry. I am
irritated, racked, overwhelmed with
disgust. I have got a pay office
existence: I am asked for services/
favours, orders are made for me, I am
asked for interventions, pieces of
advice and complicity. I have become a
misanthropist.
Two-thirds of my mental metabolism is
getting low because of the nerves of
the conjuncture; my daily schedule is
an inventory of minor emergencies. I
think less, being stimulated by lowdown challenges.
I begin the day being apoplectic,
swearing the situation: the holes in

Sunt ocupat. Sunt grabit. Sunt iritat,

hartuit, coplesit de lehamite. Am o
existenta de ghiseu: mi se cer servicii,
mi se fac comenzi, mi se solicita
interventii, sfaturi si complicitati. Am
devenit
mizantrop.
Doua treimi din metabolismul meu
mental se epuizeaza in nervi de
conjunctura, agenda mea zilnica e un
inventar de urgente minore. Gandesc
pe sponci, stimulat de provocari
meschine.
Imi incep ziua apoplectic, injurand
"situatiunea": gropile din drum,
moravurile soferilor autohtoni, caldura
(sau frigul), praful (sau noroiul),
morala
politicienilor,
gramatica
gazetarilor, modele ideologice,

cacofoniile noii arhitecturi, demagogia,

coruptia, bezmeticia tranzitiei. Abia
daca mai inregistrez desenul ametitor
al cate unei siluete feminine, inocenta
vreunui suras, farmecul tacut al cate
unui
colt
de
strada.
Colectionez antipatii si prilejuri de
insatisfactie. Scriu despre mizerii si
maruntisuri.
Bomban toata ziua, mi-am pierdut
increderea in virtutile natiei, in soarta
tarii,
in
rostul
lumii. Am un portret tot mai greu
digerabil. Patriotii de parada m-au
trecut la tradatori, neoliberalii la
conservatori, postmodernistii la elitisti.
Batranilor le apar frivol, tinerilor
reactionar. Una peste alta, mi-am
pierdut buna dispozitie, elanul,
jubilatia. Nu mai am ragazuri fertile,
reverii, autenticitati. Ma misc, de
dimineata pana seara, intr-un univers
artificial, agitat, infectat de trivialitate.
Apetitul vital a devenit anemic,
placerea de a fi si-a pierdut
amplitudinea
si
suculenta.
[]Suntem napaditi de probleme
secunde. Avem preocupari de mana a
doua, avem conducatori de mana a
doua, traim sub presiunea multipla a
necesitatii. Ni se ofera texte mediocre,
show-uri de prost-gust, conditii de
viata umilitoare. Am ajuns sa nu mai
avem simturi, idei, imaginatie. Ne-am
uratit, ne-am instrainat cu totul de
simplitatea polifonica a lumii, de
pasiunea
vietii
depline.
Nu mai avem puterea de a admira si de
a lauda, cu o genuina evlavie,
splendoarea
Creatiei,
vazduhul,
marile,pamantul si oamenii. Suntem
turmentati si sumbri. Abia daca ne mai
putem suporta.

the road, the habits of the native

drivers, the hot weather (or the cold
weather), the dust (or the mud), the
morality of the politicians, the
grammar used by the journalists,
ideological models, the cacophony of
the new architecture, the demagogy,
the corruption, the giddiness of the
transaction. I can hardly notice the
stunning shape of any womans body,
the innocence of any smile, the silent
charm from any corner of the street.
I collect antipathy and opportunities
for dissatisfaction. I write about
squalor and trifles. I grumble all day
long, I have lost my trust in the
nations virtues, in the countrys fate,
in the worlds sense. I have got an even
harder digestible portrait. The patriots
on the parade sent me to the traitors,
the neoliberals to the conservatives, the
postmodernists to the elitists. I seem to
be frivolous for the elders and
reactionary for young. after all, I have
lost my good mood, the lan, the
jubuliation. I have no productive
leisure, daydreams or authenticity
anymore. I move day in, day out
throughout an artificial, agitated and
infested with triviality universe. yhe
vital appetite has become anaemic, the
pleasure of existing has lost its
proportion and taste/ succulence.
[] We are overwhelmed by slight
problems. We have got minor
preoccupations, unimportant leaders
and live under the multiple pressure of
the necessity. We are offered second
rate texts, vulgar shows, humiliating
life conditions. We come to have no
more feelings, ideas or imagination.
We got ugly and entitely left the
polyphonic simplicity of the world, the
passion of the entire life. We have no
power to admire and to boast, with a
genuine devotion, the splendour of
Creation, the air, the sea, the earth and
people. We are tipsy and depressed. We
can hardly stand/ tolerate ourselves.