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.

Nadina Visan - Gentiene de Bavaria

Nu are-oricine gentiene-n casa
In blind septembre, de trist Sin’ Mihail,

Gentiane de Bavaria, mari, intunecoase, intunecoase doar
Ce-ntuneca si ziua, asemeni unor torte care
Fumega de-albastrul mohorit plutonic
Striate si asemeni unor torte, cu explozia lor
De intuneric ce intinde albastrul
Culcat apoi in colturi, culcat de albii zori ce trec in tromba
Flori-torta ale albastrului, fumegindului intuneric,
Picla de un albastru-nchis ce-I a lui Pluto
Lampi negre in saloanele din Dis,
Arzind de-albastru-nchis,
Raspindind intuneric, intuneric albastru,
La fel cum palidele lampi ale Demetrei raspindesc lumina,
Indrumati-ma, aratati-mi calea!

O gentiana da-mi, o torta-ntinde-mi!
Sa ma calauzesc cu torta-albastra, bifurcata a astei flori
In jos pe scarile mereu mai neguroase,
Unde albastrul se intuneca-n albastru
Ba inca incotro se-ndreapta Persefona,
Taman acum, din bruma lui septembre,
Catre tinutul fara de vedere in care intunericul
Pe intuneric se trezeste
Iar Persefona, ea, e doar o voce
Sau intuneric nevazut invaluita-n si mai intuneric
Al bratelor plutonice, patrunsa de o involburata pasiune
De picla deasa
Intre splendoarea tortelor de intuneric,
Ce leapada frinturi de intuneric
Peste mire si pierduta sa mireasa.