From Annefon at aol.com Sat Aug 19 17:10:16 2000 From: Annefon at aol.com (Annefon at aol.com) Date: Sat, 19 Aug 2000 17:10:16 EDT Subject: [Gjakova-L] Tregim nga Aleksander Moisiu (1880-1935)-"A GIRL" Message-ID: A GIRL The Royal Opera in the Imperial City of Vienna, fourth gallery, a forty kreutzer seat, given free from the Royal and Imperial Chief of the Claque. With hungry stomach at Gounod's "Faust"; what does it matter when one is eighteen and a half? Next to me a young girl. My ardent side glances through the prevailing darkness can establish these facts: a fascinating face, dark blonde. Before the beginning of the second act, we are already speaking to each other. A caressing voice. Happiness is here at last! When one is so young, one says always "At last," for one has no time. (Yet so much time remains.) I am inexpressibly charmed by my neighbor, and I am afraid... hollow-cheeked, more then modest in dress, not grown tall, not pretty... how could I dare to hope. Garden Scene: "I love you so truly. I am all yours."... I opened my hand, the right one, really unconsciously, extending it toward her... and she, without looking at me, puts her left hand-the one nearest the heart... without a word into mine. I dare not press this trembling little hand. I hold it carefully, like a poor little bird, hold it long-long, the whole garden scene, long. What tremors of bliss warmed my veins. She or no other! (please do not forget only eighteen and a half.) Long intermission: In vain I beseech her to take a walk with me. I am becoming persistent. She thanks me with an inexplicable worried look, but stays in her seat. I do not move from her side. Oh, how would I love to persuade her to accompany me on an outing, tomorrow, a day after tomorrow, soon - only real soon.... In the Wienerwald I would walk with her over a sea of yellowish leaves, for it is autumn. At my age of "welt-schmerz" it is my favorite season (since then, all seasons of the year are mine). How beautiful it would be. . . ."I do not think that you will go with me" - she answers timidly. I plead, I I swear, I forget all limits. . . . "Pst, pst, pst, quiet," they grumble from every side. (And the people are right, by my God, only eighteen and a half years old.) Angels choir, havenly congregation, "thy soul . . . eternally!" Curtains: I do justice to my duties as a claquer for the imperial Opera, am getting up. She remains seated. "It is better that you go - because I could not go with you, absolutely not"; she implores. I take her clothes check out of her hand. There - triumph - I have a pawn. I call for her wrap, and wait with it, staring at the exit. And wait. At last . . . a lame girl limps toward me, allows herself to be helped into the wrap. "Many thanks," she says, gazing into space, in a harsh voice. I cannot hide my disillusionment, stutter something about meeting again. . . . Nearly a lifetime has gone by since that evening. How many draughts from the cup of life have I taken since then. Sweet, sour, bitter ones. . . and still this quarter of a century has not been bitter, sour or sweet enough, to make me forget, that then all ecstasy, all dreams could be destroyed, because one leg . . . . was a bit shorter than the other. I have sought all these years in vain for this poor creature, like a person doomed to darkness, seeking light. I have searched for her with iron heart; I have never met her again. . . . I have seen the greater part of our confused globe. I have faithlessly forgotten much that I have experienced. Some things I have preserved and cherished. I will never forget her, - the poor lame girl, who sat next to me in the fourth gallery, and did not want to rise and reveal her defect to the eye which caressed her. Today, after twenty years, I call to her "Forgive me" _ and kiss with guilty feeling her hands. By Alexander Moissi (I880- 1935) Dergoi: Ferhat Ymeri Kent, Washington P.s. Falenderoj perzemerisht miken time Merita Juniku, mezzosoprane dhe artiste e shkelqyer, e deshmuar ne skenat operistike te Teatrit Kombetar Kroat (ne Zagreb, Kroaci) dhe te Operas Sllovene te Lubjanes. Ajo me dhuroi kete tekst te Moisiut ne shkurtin e vitit 1995, ne Zagreb. Me intereson te di: a e di kush se, cili eshte shqiperuesi i ketij tregimi te Moisit, origjinali i te cilit eshte me siguri gjermanisht? Cili eshte titulli i publikimit (gazetes, revistes, periodikut) ne origjinalin gjermanisht? dhe ne cilin vend dhe kur eshte botuar per here te pare ky tregim? (Ne Austri, Gjermani ose Zvicerr?) A eshte botuar ndonje here tregimi ne fjale ne mediat shqiptare ose ne internet? A i di dikush se a jane perkthyer ne shqip shkrimet tjera te Moisiut te cilat i vene ne dukje Bardhyl Kosova ne monografine e tij " Aleksander Moisiu" f. 116, Bibliografia: " Debuti im ne Burgteater" "A genjen aktori?" "Der, die, Das" "Kostandin Stanislavski" "Si e njoha Fedjen e tij". . . "Kriza e teatrit gjerman" "problemet e teatrit kontemporan" Do te cmoja cfaredo te dhene ne lidhje me pyetjet e mesiperme duke mbetur perhere mirenjohes i juaji. Ferhat Ymeri