| George Bacovia |
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| Autumn Lead |
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| 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? |
| 1881-1957 |
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| 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. |
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| 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? |