Ion Luca Caragiale (Romanian pronunciation: [iˈon ˈluka karaˈd͡ʒjale]; commonly referred to as I. L. Caragiale; February 13 [O.S. February 1] 1852 – 9 July 1912) was a Wallachian-born Romanian playwright, short story writer, poet, theater manager, political commentator and journalist. Leaving behind an important cultural legacy, he is considered one of the greatest playwrights in Romanian language and literature, as well as one of its most important writers and a leading representative of local humor. Alongside Mihai Eminescu, Ioan Slavici and Ion Creangă, he is seen as one of the main representatives of Junimea, an influential literary society with which he nonetheless parted during the second half of his life. His work, spanning four decades, covers the ground between Neoclassicism, Realism, and Naturalism, building on an original synthesis of foreign and local influences.
Caragiale is a surname in Romania, associated with several members of a theatrical and literary family:
It being in the springtime and the small birds they were singing,
Down by yon shady harbour I carelessly did stray,
The the thrushes they were warbling,
The violets they were charming
To view fond lovers talking, a while I did delay.
She said, my dear don't leave me all for another season,
Though fortune does be pleasing I 'll go along with you,
I 'll forsake friends and relations and bid this Irish nation,
And to the bonny Bann banks forever I 'll bid adieu.
He said, my dear don't grieve or yet annoy my patience,
You know I love you dearly the more I'm going away,
I'm going to a foreign nation to purchase a plantation,
To comfort us hereafter all in Amerika y.
Then after a short while a fortune does be pleasing,
T'will cause them for smile at our late going away,
We'll be happy as Queen Victoria, all in her greatest glory,
We'll be drinking wine and porter all in Amerika y.
If you were in your bed lying and thinking on dying,
The sight of the lovely Bann banks, your sorrow you'd give o'er,
Or if were down one hour, down in yon shady bower,
Pleasure would surround you, you'd think on death no more.
Then fare you well, sweet Cragie Hills, where often times I've roved,
I never thought my childhood days I 'd part you any more,
Now we're sailing on the ocean for honour and promotion,