| George Bacovia |
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| Autumn Nerves |
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| Autumn, and rustling, sleepiness ... Trees an the street heave sighs; Coughing, weeping, emptiness ... And it's cold, and it drizzles. |
| 1881-1957 |
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| Nervi de Toamna |
| E toamna, e fosnet, e somn ... Copacii, pe strada, ofteaza; E tuse, e planset, e gol ... Si-i frig, si bureaza. |
| Amantii, mai bolnavi, mai tristi, Pe drumuri fac gesturi ciudate - Iar frunze de vesnicul somn Cad grele, udate. |
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| Sicker, sadder, the lovers make Queer gestures on the streets - Now leaves fall, soaked and heavy, From everlasting sleep. |
| I wait, and move on, and come back, Profoundly saddened by the lovers - I feel like laughing senselessly, And it's cold, and it drizzles. |
| Eu stau si ma duc, si ma-ntorc, Si-amantii profund ma-ntristeaza - Imi vine sa rad fara sens, Si-i frig, si bureaza. |