BY THE  TREES

I have never had any forest,

I have never had  any trees,

Only some locust trees

Planted and grew by grandmother. . .

 

The forest was far away

And I would make haste to it

Only in spring when I picked up snowdrops. . .

Only mother had a forest

At the end of her village

Where the little sheep and the cow would  graze. . .

Now I look at the old oaks

Maybe older than mother

Who passed away long ago, with their leaves,

With their branches in a coffin

In spring. . .

I look at them and ask myself;

Actually, I ask them,

Can you remember mother?

The barefooted blond little girl?

You, old oak trees,

I embrace and kiss you

For I, too, pass away

Without you, without your leaves,

Only with a drop of eternity. . .

 

BEYOND SILENCE

I would keep her near me,

In my eyes

Day and night,

Because I did not know what was to happen

And what she would become. . .

I never dreamt of losing her

Because I keep waiting for her even now,

I keep looking for her in my memory

Among my dreams, as once before

In a town in Moldova. . .

Where are you? I keep calling her out

It is me, the poor young lady,

Why can’t you hear me?

But the woman in my dream

Lives only within myself,

Also poor, but more beautiful than before.

 

NO MERMAID

Every evening I make the bed,

Which is mine and my sweethearts

But they do not come any more. . .

Maybe I have loved them too much,

I have set them on fire

And they have smoldered

Without having known or told me. . .

A shadow or a ghost

Passes by sometimes─ inknown,

And I alone again

Would like to call out to her, to cry for her

But the shadow or the ghost

Does not burn me any more

My bed every evening,

The bed sheet, the pillows, the couch,

Some sort of ship adrift

With an old sailor

Whom no mermaid

calls him out any more

From the seashore, from the cliffs. . .

 

STRÂMBUŢA  

I await her, but she does not know, she does not know me,

I have found a name for her, which I whisper

Every evening, like a prayer,

Strâmbuţa, I say, a being, a girl,

A beautiful woman of course

As I alone can see her and I caress her,

Strâmbuţa, Strâmbuţa, mz woman,

A being from mz soul,

Now I would like to be a raven, to howl in a forest,

Until I make the trees swing and scare the birds,

Because unlike howls, my Strâmbuţa,

the words in love mean nothing,

and tomorrow, if it be for me, too,

I shall howl like a hart and  I will really ask you

In marriage, Strâmbuţaa, Strâmbuţaaa!

English version: Olimpia IACOB