D. H. Lawrence - Bavarian Gentians

Not every man has gentians in his house
in soft September, at slow, sad Michaelmas.

Bavarian gentians, big and dark, only dark
darkening the daytime, torch-like, with the smoking blueness of Pluto's gloom,
ribbed and torch-like, with their blaze of darkness spread blue
down flattening into points, flattened under the sweep of white day
torch-flower of the blue-smoking darkness, Pluto's dark-blue daze,
black lamps from the halls of Dis, burning dark blue,
giving off darkness, blue darkness, as Demeter's pale lamps give off light,
lead me then, lead the way.

Reach me a gentian, give me a torch!
let me guide myself with the blue, forked torch of this flower
down the darker and darker stairs, where blue is darkened on blueness
even where Persephone goes, just now, from the frosted September
to the sightless realm where darkness is awake upon the dark
and Persephone herself is but a voice
or a darkness invisible enfolded in the deeper dark
of the arms Plutonic, and pierced with the passion of dense gloom,
among the splendor of torches of darkness, shedding darkness
on the lost bride and her groom.

Maria Zirra - Gentiene de Bavaria

Nu fitecine are parte de gentiene-n a sa casa
In molcomul Septembre, la linul, mohoratul Michaelmas.

Gentiene de Bavaria, mari, albastre ca-nserarea, fuioare de bezna
Care cotropesc chiar ziua, precum o torta face cu-albastrul ei de fum
atuncea cand coboara peste-al lui Pluto alean,
Torte unduitoare arzand intunecat cu albastra flama,
Ce puncte-n puncte apasate se preschimba, stranse-n imbratisarea zilei dalbe,
Florile-torte ale intunericului celui albastru si adanc de fum,
Ale uimirii lui Pluto albastru-nserate,
Lampi intunericite din salile de dincolo, arzand-albastru de-nserat,
Si raspandind al intunericului brat, albastru de-inserat, la fel cum
Din palidele lampi ale lui Demeter lumina aievea-izvoade.
Conduce-ti-ma, dara, pasiti degrab in fata.

Culege-mi o gentiana, ada-o torta!
Sa-orbecai doar cu-albastra torta-furca acestei flori,
In jos pe scarile cu bezna din ce in ce mai deasa, acolo unde albastrul e intunecat cu-albastru
si-acolo unde calca Persefona, acum, sa trec din inghetat’ septembre
catre taramul de orbire unde chiar intunericul in bezna deasa se trezeste,
Si Persefona insasi ramane doar o voce
Sau intunericul ce se rasfira in bezna si mai deasa
in bratele plutonice, patrunsa adanc de patima amara in nestire,
invaluiti pesemne in falnica mandrie a tortelor de intuneric, ce arunc-un val de
bezna peste mireasa blestemata si-al sau mire.