George Bacovia
© 2000-2012  by All rights reserved.
Autumn Lead
Already a young girl's coughed herself to death,
And a pale dreamer took his life with a gun;
It's autumn and by now night has fallen ...
- And how are you then, my forgotten love?
George Bacovia (1881-1957)
Plumb de Toamna
De-acum, tusind, a si murit o fata,
Un palid visator s-a impuscat;
E toamna si de-acuma s-a-noptat ...
- Tu ce mai faci, iubita mea uitata?
Intr-o gradina publica, tacuta,
Pe un nebun l-am auzit racnind,
Iar frunzele cu droaia se desprind;
E vant si-orice speranta e pierduta.
Within the public gardens, not a sound,
Then suddenly I heard a madman scream,
And now the leaves are dropping in a swarm;
It's windy and all hope is abandoned.
I ran into a soldier and a priest
In the small, poverty-enveloped town ...
And now I'll sleep on my books, forgotten,
Abandoned here in this provincial waste.
Prin targu-nvaluit de saracie
Am intalnit un popa, un soldat ...
De-acum pe carti voi adormi uitat,
Pierdut intr-o provincie pustie.
De-acum, au si pornit pe lumea eronata
Ecouri de revolta si de jale;
Tot mai citesti probleme sociale ...
Sau, ce mai scrii, iubita mea uitata?
Already echoes of revolt and grief
Are spreading out through these fallacious times;
Are you still reading up on social problems ...
Or writing something, my forgotten love?