George Perdichi was born in 1912 in the village of Perivoli and studied literature in Rumania. The fortunes of Hitler’s war brought him to America, but he was never happy here; it seems that the impersonal, materialistic aspects of our lifestyle offended his poet’s sensibility. I was fortunate enough to have known Giugica, as we called him, for he visited our house often. As a child, I rarely saw his deep sadness because the one antidote for it was being around his compatriots–thus, I remember him full of life and laughter. This poem, however, shows the heavy heart that lay behind those brief moments of joy.
Giugica died here in 1964, far away from his beloved Perivoli. The quality of his poetry was somewhat uneven, but the following is one of my favorites. Its title, Dipartarea, is difficult to translate; I prefer the simple word “Leaving.” (Note: Since the Aromanian alphabet is still not standardized I have used a modified English alphabet and hoped for the best.)
| Tricu un anu di candu azbuirai | A year has passed since I flew |
| di acasa. | from my nest. |
| Disfechiu a meali peani | I spread my wings wide, |
| Tra s-yinu aua tu xeani | Took a strange land as my bride, |
| S-ni ascapa suskirarli dit inima | Fleeing from anguish locked in |
| handoasa. | my own breast. |
| Voi muntsa ‘naltsi, voi plaiuri, | You tall mountains, you hill-sides, |
| paduri shi scumpa hoara, | dear village and glen, |
| Voi locuri mult musheati | You most beautiful of all places |
| Iu ni trapshiu a meali niati… | Cradle of children with bright red faces… |
| La voi nu va mi tornu s-va vedu | I’ll not be returning to see |
| ninga-na oara. | you again. |
| Tu dipartari apusit cu | You set with the sun of my |
| tineretsli a meali. | youth as I watched from afar. |
| Mirakili ni si ngrupara, | My passions were buried |
| Mi dipartai di hoara, | In your dust as I hurried |
| Di sotsi, parei, di numtsa sh-di | From home, friends, and weddings, |
| feati ca steali. | from girls pretty as stars. |
| Cum liai si-aruki lilichea sh-u | Just as you reach to tear up a flower, |
| alashi apoia theama | then leave it awhile |
| S-maranghiseasca ghini, | To wilt and decay |
| Turlia ‘tsea sh©cu mini… | So I, too, have wasted away… |
| Maranghisitu—maratlu—tu | O miserable withered me, |
| nfarmacata xeana! | drinking the poison of exile! |
| Cand eu beam apa, Pinde, dit | O Pindus, when I drank from |
| Izvurli-ts ca sherki, | your serpentine fountains, |
| Ni parea ca ni creashti geanlu | It seemed my life’s spirit grew |
| Iar oclili yii c’aslanlu | ‘Til I became a dashing hero whose |
| Ascapira ca truplu lu aveam ca | Eyes flashed lightning, whose |
| di chiuleki. | steeled body moved mountains. |
| Tu inima atumtsea purtam | In those days I bore only joy |
| haricupie. | in my heart |
| Nvirnari asandz portu, | Now like a pallbearer, |
| Canda jilescu var mortu; | forlorn, Wherever I walk, I mourn; |
| Jilescu Armanamea araita ca | I mourn a plundered flock: My |
| cupie. | own people torn apart. |
| Mi doari, ca, pri plaiuri iu | My pain is on the hillsides |
| alagam ‘na oara, | where I used to run, |
| Nu am s-mi priimnu lailu | On roads I cannot walk today |
| Tu muntsi cand yini Mailu | Up, up, into the mountains in May |
| Apoia toamna candu mi | And down again in autumn, when |
| dispartsamu di hoara. | cold rains come. |
| Aua, u-adutsi oara, tra s-dau di | Here now, it’s time I ran into |
| var di a nostru | one of our own who |
| Azbuirat di atseia | Has flown away from there |
| Cu el s-ni facu parea… | We’ll make such a pair… |
| Habari cand nas ni-adutsi ca | When he brings me news from home |
| marmura stau mprostu. | I’ll stand proud as a statue. |
| Ni si deapina tu minti iconili | The icons of lost youth go |
| fichiureshti: | ’round in my mind: |
| Mi ved fichior tu muntsa, | I emerge from the woods and am heading |
| La muabetsi, la numtsa, | Now to a party, now to a wedding, |
| Trag cor cu picurarli tu porturi | Now to pull kilted shepherds as |
| armaneshti. | we dance hand-in-hand all in line. |
| Aleapta geanlui vruta, livenda- | Dear rosy-cheeked beloved, |
| arushcuvana, | chosen of my heart, |
| Cari dau di u aduc aminti | When I would bring her to mind |
| Tsiva nu ved nainti… | The only image I find |
| Ved mashi un harishu anghil tu | Is of a graceful angel in a |
| harisha icoana. | golden icon’s art. |
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