George Bacovia
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Autumn
A gunshot's powerful report
Cracks from the fringes of the town;
The metal sound of trumpeters
Down at the barracks ... it is autumn.
1881-1957
George Bacovia (1881-1957)
Toamna
Rasuna din margini de targ
Un bangat puternic de arma;
E toamna ... metalic s-aud
Gornistii, in fund, la cazarma.
S-aude si-un clopot de scoala,
E vant, si-i pustiu, dimineata;
Hartii si cu frunze, de-a valma,
Fac roata-n varteje, pe-o piata.
A school bell also can be heard,
In the morning it's deserted, windy;
Papers and leaves wheel round the square
In dizzy spins, haphazardly.
With a stern, overbearing spire,
The cathedral looks to the horizon;
The town gardens are in tears
And shed their leaves throughout the town.
Se uita in zari catedrala,
Cu turnu-i sever si trufas;
Gradina orasului plange,
Si-arunca frunzisu-n oras.
Si vine, ca-n vremuri de demult,
Din margini, un bucium de-alarma,
E toamna ... metalic s-aud
Gornistii, in fund, la cazarma.
And, as in times of old, a horn
Comes from the fringes in alarm,
The metal sound of trumpeters
Down at the barracks ... it is autumn.