Seeing it first through the eyes of the child, then those of the adolescent, then of a grown-up and a poet, I've been fascinated by this work of (apparent) simplicity crowned by the poet's genius with an angelic halo. The child read it as a disquieting fairy tale, the adolescent as a drama of incompatibility. The adult poet found it a poetic masterpiece of multiplying meanings and magical  vocabulary, a message packaged for eternity. 

Untranslatable. 
Untranslatable? 

I have always thought that when an established text, especially one of supreme quality, is moved from one language to another, it is akin to a mutation. It is like the transplanting of an entire flora and fauna into a different soil and climate with the purpose of making it live, breathe and
belong organically in the new natural dimension. I have also always thought that to separate the content of a poem from the specific prosodic form given by its author is a sort of crime. This would be committed only by a sloppy or unqualified translator, either irreverent or iconoclastic.
To sever Eminescu (or Puskin) from his music was simply to invalidate him in the adopted language. 

The often mentioned 'faithfulness' to the author is never accomplished at the level of the word but rather at that of sound and connotation. And if this seems to state the obvious, to fulfill these conditions is, nevertheless, as risky and courageous as it is for alien planets to establish contact.
Of course, to be brave cannot in itself secure excellent results. The translator must have a profound understanding for the work of his dedication and at the same time possess an array of tools and professional experience capable of matching the virtuosity of the author. 

But here, again, Eminescu's indisputable virtuosity is subsumed to an even more mysterious form; a super-melody seems to envelop everything in a miraculous aura which makes it so much more difficult, if not impossible, to be intoned 'by a tongue alien'. 

Having to obey so many commandments, the work accomplished by Adrian George Sahlean is undoubtedly quite a feat. He is not the first who dared to climb the 'steps of perfection' and, I am sure , he will not be the last. On reading it, though, some of his solutions seem
impossible to exceed. 

Since this edition is bilingual, perhaps I ought to illustrate it. But I fear that for the English and American readers this would be rather cumbersome and superfluous; moreover, the poem's impact should happen beyond my argument. Still, I will choose, among many possible others, a stanza that speaks of the translator's capacity for 'transfer':

          'Strãin la vorbã si la port
          Lucesti fãr' de viatã
          Cãci eu sunt vie, tu esti mort
          Si ochiul tãu mã-ngheatã.'

          For you speak words of lifeless breeze
          An you are strangely clad,
          Under your gaze my eyes would freeze
          For I'm alive, your dead.'

I consider this most recent translation of the 'Evening Star' a true cultural event which should be welcomed.

Nina Cassian

Parcurs la inceput cu ochi de copil, apoi de adolescent, apoi de adult si de poet, am inregistrat fascinatia acestei opere de o simplitate (aparenta) careia geniul ii pune o aureola de inger. Copilul a citit-o ca pe un basm turburator, adolescentul, ca pe o drama a incompatibilitatii, poetul adult ca pe o capodopera poetica implicand proliferare de sensuri, magie lexicala, un adevarat mesaj ambalat pentru eternitate.

Intraductibil. 
Intraductibil? 

Am gandit intotdeauna ca a muta un text constituit- cu precadere unul de suprema calitate - intr-o alta limba, egaleaza o 'mutatie', transplantarea unei intregi faune si flore intr-un climat diferit, intr-un sol diferit, cu sarcina de a le face sa vieze, sa respire, sa apartina organic acelei noi dimensiuni naturale. Deasemeni, mi s-a impus intotdeauna ideea ca a desparti 'continutul' unui poem de expresia prozodica specifica in care a incorporat-o autorul - e un tip de crima de care s-ar face vinovat numai un traducator lenes sau necalificat, ireverent daca nu iconoclast. A-l separa pe Eminescu (sau pe Puskin) de 'muzica' lui inseamna a-l invalida in limba de adoptiune. 

Fideltatea atat de des invocata nu e la nivelul cuvintelor ci la al conota tiilor si al sonoritatilor si oricat de banale par aceste afirmatii, indeplinirea conditiilor de mai sus e la fel de riscanta si de temerara ca incercarea unor planete necunoscute de a comunica intre ele. Evident, temeritatea singura nu asigura excelenta rezultatului. I se cere traducatorului o profunda percepere a operei careia i se dedica precum si posedarea une panoplii de unelte si a unei experiente profesionale capabile sa egaleze virtuozitatea autorului. 

Dar iata ca insasi virtuozitatea indiscutabila a lui Eminescu e subsumata unei 'forme' mult mai misterioase, unei
supra-melodii care invaluie totul ca o aura miraculoasa cu atit mai greu (daca nu imposibil) de intonat de 'o straina gura'. Trebuind sa se supuna atator inalte comandamente, lucrarea lui Adrian George Sahlean e fara indoiala o performanta. Nu e primul care s-a incumetat sa urce mentionatele 'trepte ale desavarsirii' si - sunt sigura - nu e ultimul (desi unele 'solutii' pe care le-a aflat par, la lectura, de nedepasit). 

Ar fi, poate, cazul sa exemplific, fiind vorba de o editie bilingva. Dar ma tem ca pentru cititorii engleji sau americani o asemenea operatie ar deveni fastidioasa sau oricum superflua intrucat impactul cu poemul s-ar cuveni sa se produca dincolo de argumente. Totusi, aleg, din multe posibile, o strofa doveditoare pentru capacitatea de 'transfer' a traducatorului: 

          'Strãin la vorbã si la port
          Lucesti fãr' de viatã
          Cãci eu sunt vie, tu esti mort
          Si ochiul tãu mã-ngheatã.'

          'For you speak words of lifeless breeze
          And you are strangely clad, 
          Under your gaze my eyes would freeze,
          For I'm alive, you're dead.'

Consider ca aceasta cea mai recenta traducere a 'Luceafarului' merita salutata ca un adevarat act de cultura.

Nina Cassian