Psalm of the Dawn
When the dawn breaks through the mists and streaks across the horizon;
When the dawn light kindles in the branches; and flocks frolic in the meadow;
When dew lies upon the flowers;
Then… to You… Power without bounds,
And thousands of voices rise, from thousands upon thousands of ages.
Their song at dawn.
I.
Săteanu crosses himself; and then sets off to work;
The forests sing of You in their rustling; the zephyrs sing of You in the meadow
, though they have no words.
And creatures from the waves; and rays dancing upon the lakes;
And flowers woven into the meadows; and days spun into ages
Sing their holy hymn:
That You sprang forth from chaos, and time, and space, and the world;
And laws that soar along nameless paths,
From unfathomable horizons.
Stars from the depths, upon waters far from shore,
Sift their fiery rays amidst the roar of the waves,
Across those same vast expanses.
Consuming mysteries, the creatures are in turmoil! …
Yet they have no minds to understand; nor do they have hearts to feel,
Though they tread these paths!…
II.
And… yet, the sea surges with such love for the stars!
And the sun is kindled with love for the violins;
For the forests and the songs!
Love has poured itself out, in the law of motion!
And at the crossroads of eternity, only man understands You.
For he bears Your image.
In the mysteries of creation, Your image dawns,
And in all that moves through space and sparkles beneath the sun
, You appear to him… God.
III.
O! Lord! … You have created love and movement;
And the days, and space, and mercy and compassion.
Astonishing us! …
Pour out upon us, then, peace, from Your profound peace,
That we may love one another, O Lord; And that our labour may be fruitful.
May we be free from want.
By the Sea
I.
The sun, from the gloom of day, pours golden hair in waves;
Whilst the wilderness of the sea groans in the wilderness upon the shores.
It seethes eternally in the waves and murmurs in the whisper of foam.
The verse ‘He who said’ … and the world came into being.
Sea… voice and eye of the waves! …have you ever known,
How much thrill and how much enchantment the starry night pours forth??
When the stars rise, from boundless depths,
bathe their forms in your depths, as they have for thousands of ages?
Have you ever known how many oars and masts,
ploughing paths without a trace, have rocked upon your open waters?!
O! If you were a living eye, gazing ever towards the depths, towards the stars
, you alone would know all the mysteries they hold.
But you sway coldly on the seabed! …And when you strike the shores coldly,
your voice, born of a thousand waves, coldly shatters the silence…
So I wonder, why does my mind so often drift towards you?!
Why, in the void of your existence, do I unravel the rhythm of my own life?!
How sweetly your blue horizons pamper me,
When at dawn the crimson pillars blaze upon the water’s surface!…
And how much charm your sad solitude holds in its waves,
When the morning’s radiance pierces your glade!…
Who can paint the enamel strewn across the waves,
Floating in thousands of droplets, over thousands of empty arms?…
And the twilight from the open sea—who can describe it,
When slowly… slowly… it falls asleep, over your desolate expanse?
At last I feel, cold soul, the flickering sparks of life
, Since Chronos stirs the world through light, abyss and mist;
And… drawn by a rebirth, I might find the urge to sing;
When your roars from the waves, when your murmurs from the wind;
II.
What shall I sing of in this world of time?! …Shall I sing of the enchantment of the meadow?
But here is the slave of the day, broken by want and labour!
A wretched, animal-like outcast who speaks
—all yoke him without mercy; and the whip strikes him again and again.
He, the wretch of the ages; he preserves his race and his tongue.
Everything has changed in the world. His fate will never change!…
Sad is the rustling of the forests, sad the murmur of the springs;
Sad is the meadow that bathes only in tears and sweat.
Where are the enchanted strings to cleave the Heavens with song,
To silence the weeping of the fields and the sighs of the winds!!
Let me penetrate the heights of glory to the One who reigns
, and ask the Divine: how long will He punish him?
How long will He, the Creative Power, forget him in the mists?
He who bathed the whole wilderness by the sea in light.
Is it a crime that his blood makes the flowers bloom in the fields? …
Ah! I am choked! Take me quickly, ‘By the Sea’, O fantasy.
Yet the heavens are not to blame. He has given us hearts, minds and tongues,
And laid restraint and wisdom upon all things in due measure.
But—whilst the sea upholds its law; and remains sublime in its ancient purpose,
We, blinded by our own law, give shelter to folly;
And where the warm, living spirit should struggle within the sacred law,
Only passion stirs and pain torments.
[…]
IV.
If only I could let my life drift, gliding upon the waves of the sea,
O world! O world, wave of passions, how soon I would cast you into oblivion!!!…
I no longer care for your lands, nor your songs, nor the moonlit dance.
Today my heart is torn asunder when the doina rings out from the sheepfolds.
Doina, doina, voice of longing; I have now understood your song
. It is a groan of pain that shakes the earth
, and Heaven’s wrath—will it ever be appeased?
Lord! …have mercy, then, on this cursed world,
Which wastes away in passions and falls asleep in a fairy-tale dream,
Whilst thick darkness, stained with the blood of thousands of lives, lies heavy.
Do not repay crime with crime, but with justice and mercy,
You who so blissfully illuminate the vast expanse of the sea.
Let the meadows and woods once more resound with enchantment,
For it is a sin for the lyre to sound in the wilderness, even in this land.
V.
And I… …, if I dare… … forgive me!
Who is wise when they weep?
What fault is mine, when I wrote,
Not with tears, but with blood?
Golgotha
It pours its kiss of peace over the horizon at dusk!
And in a wave of rosy flames, twilight unfolds;
Whilst its spell falls in shreds and flickers upon the peaks…
… …
Slowly, …across the expanse of the cold night… stars emerge from the mist
, Igniting boundlessness from their void of life;
And from the arched paths frozen in the ages,
The same moon beats upon the meadows and sparkles upon the lakes.
I.
It is spring. Among the Jews, Nisan is now in full swing;
It is Passover in Jerusalem… …And every year,
King David’s City now buzzes with crowds
Gathered from the North, the South, the East and the West:
Bent-backed old men with snow-white beards; women with proud tresses
; men with bare arms, shy lads and maidens
; they have come from the farthest reaches of the earth, in thousands of caravans
; and as far as the eye can see, there is a sea of turbans…
… …
Long and loud, from the heights of Zion, resounds
the sound of cymbals, trumpets, lutes and stringed harps.
They are psalms… sparks of the spirit, flowing from faith,
Just as the scents flow from flowers beneath the twilight’s rays.
In the mysterious thrill poured forth from these holy
moments, An ancient people relives its memories.
It is Passover in Jerusalem… …And on a horizon of spears,
Candlelight and the glint of spears float.
By command of the proud Caesar and in praise
of Yahweh, In the skies above the sorrowful city, they shall flutter in splendour… …
The litanies begin; and let the crowds bow in humility,
Whilst the vault of the mighty temple glows with light.
From the Altar, amidst clouds of smoke, it rises slowly towards the heavens.
It is Passover in Jerusalem; and in these holy
moments An ancient people relives its memories.
II.
But what is that sound now?… …at dusk, on the city’s outskirts?!…
And what waves burst forth from thousands upon thousands of crowds?!…
It is Christ’s full sacrifice, which He offers to humanity.
It is the agony of His Passion; it is the flame of love.
It is that tormenting destiny, woven and bound for ages
, From which virtues, healings and remedies spring forth.
It is the beacon that pours forth streams of pure light
, towards which the world has turned and worshipped ever since,
which the spirit of perdition can never extinguish.
It is that eternal and holy charter, sealed with blood.
And whose luminous letters shall never fade
away, but will grow from age to age, building perfection
and the peace of the world on earth, and immortality in the heavens.
Poetic works by Bishop Vartolomeu Stănescu of Râmnic, from the volume Spiritual Works and Verified Realities, published by the ‘Cozia’ Printing House of the Holy Diocese, Râmnicu Vâlcea, 1934, pp. 436–445.