translation studies. retrospective and prospective views

world horizon – acquires a certain sensuality which may polemicize
with the most thorough analysis of the source. Here, Bolintineanu
reveals his very self. ”Pluteşte dulce vasul şi boarea suflă-n
vele;/Scânteie-albastră mare sub ploaia sa de stele./Şi luncile-eferate
cu flori de foc/Plutesc strălucitoare, strein şi magic joc!/Vezuvul
varsă focuri în aria senină/Şi unda ce primeşte văpaia de
lumină/Răspunde printr-o ploaie de spumă şi fosfor/Pe urma care
trage pe mare-un vas uşor. (The ship is softly drifting with the breeze
in its sails;/Big blue spark under its rain with stars./And the fields
scattered with flowers of fire/Are sailing bright, strange and magic
play!/The Vesuvius pours fires on the serene area/And the wave
embracing the flame of light/Replies with a rain of foam and
phosphorus/On the wake that pulls a light ship on the sea.)
(Bolintineanu, 1984: 256)
Although reduced to two or three lines, poetical indeed are the
“raisings” of some isles such as Cyprus from the sea, as an effect of
the primary holy union: Colo s-arată marea sub soare scânteind/C-o
mie de nuanţe, de aur şi argint./Din sânu-i iese Cipru, plutind pe
marea lină,/Ca norul p-orizonte, în umbră şi lumină. (There it is
sparkling the sea under the sun/With a thousand nuances of gold
and silver. /From its bosom rises Cyprus, floating on the calm
sea/Like the cloud on the horizon, in shadow and light.) (206)
And so are the moments of maximum emotional charge, when
the sight contemplates the arduous descent of the sun into the sea. A
nopţii lungă rochie ce lunecă pe mare/Cu stele semănată, pe
splendida cărare/A lumii, fluturează, dar brazda de argint/Ce trage
steaua rece pe mare strălucind,/Nu este numai dânsa atunce
luminată./Tot valul sub o ploaie de aur se arată!/Tot câmpul
azuratic, atât pe faţa sa/Cât şi în fundul mării, adânc se-nflăcără;/Şi
peştii, şi lopata, şi vasul ce pluteşte,/Şi aripa de vânturi ce undele
loveşte,/Păreau în umbra nopţii văzute din ăst loc,/Ca printr-un vis
feeric, că toate sunt de foc. (The night’s long dress trailed on the
sea,/Scattered with stars, along the wonderful path/Of the world,
waves but the silver trail/That drags the cold, shiny, star on the
sea,/Is not the only lighted one./The entire wave shows from under
a rain of gold!/The entire sky-like field, on the face/But also the
bottom of the sea, deeply enflamed;/And the fish, and the shovel,
and the ship that sails,/And the wing of winds that strikes the
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