Catrene improvizare
(ilustrului Taslaoanu)
Ca o cometă fără coadă
Ai apărut pe firmament
Cu-al tău Luceafăr pus pe sfadă, –
Dar n-ai talent.
Ai tot ce-ţi trebuie: hârtie,
Cerneală, public indulgent,
Parale şi tipografie, –
Dar n-ai talent.
Te-ai instalat în Capitală
Ca să creezi şi tu curent.
Vrei să te-afirmi ca cap de şcoală, –
Dar n-ai talent.
La cafenea când vii alene
Îţi iei un aer grav, absent...
Satisfăcut te umfli-n pene, –
Dar n-ai talent.
Iar când te duci să scrii acasă
Un nou articol vehement,
Te strâmbi urât, te-aşezi la masă...
Dar n-ai talent.
Avântul tău şi idealul
Plasat în ţară cu procent
Îţi saltă-ntruna capitalul, –
Dar n-ai talent.
Constaţi de două ori pe lună
Că-ţi dă bilanţul excedent.
Negustoria merge strună, –
Dar n-ai talent!
Eşti fără scrupul şi măsură
Când vrei să scapi de-un concurent.
Îţi fierbe sufletul de ură, –
Dar n-ai talent.
Nu ne distruge dintr-o dată,
Catone, fii mai indulgent!
Tu ai o mutră indignată, –
Dar n-ai talent...
George Toparceanu
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Impromptu quatrains
(To a journalist)
O Hack! in comets' fine apparel
Proud on the firmament you stood,
Your rising star ready to quarrel –
But you're no good.
You've all you need: a press; cash; paper;
Ink; the belief the public would
Indulge your journalistic capers –
But you're no good.
Bright-eyed and poison-penned, you sauntered
Into the Press's neighbourhood;
You tried to set our trends, but faltered –
For you're no good.
You lounge in modish cafes, scheming
To advertise your distant mood,
Self-satisfied and yet bohemian –
But you're no good.
And when you go back home to scribble
A line that's sharp and well construed,
You sit and scratch and scowl and squiggle –
For you're no good.
Your zest for showmanship and business
Is notable, agreed. One could
Give honour to your rates of interest –
But you're no good.
Your favourite bank's twice-monthly letters
Confirm your cash spawns, as it should;
Your salesmanship could not be bettered. . .
But you're no good.
Unscrupulous, you damn in torrents
When out to get a rival stewed.
Your soul boils over with abhorrence –
But you're no good!
Don't scorch us with your column's fire!
Indulge us; show you understood!
Your features seethe with righteous ire,
But you're no good. . .
Translated from the Romanian by Adrian Pascu-Tulbure
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