George Bacovia
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Empty
The crackling of fine leaves,
Chill shadow in the resonant forest -
A silent, maybe grim astonishment,
Autumn's dance-like giddiness.
1881-1957
George Bacovia (1881-1957)
Gol
Da fosnet frunza marunta,
Umbra e rece-n padurea sonora -
O mirare tacuta, poate crunta,
O ametire de toamna, de-o hora.
Un haos vrea sa ma duca
De unic uitand, si de numar -
Un fosnet uscat ma usuca,
Pe-un arbore plang ca pe-un umar.
A chaos wants to guide me, forgetting
Both singularity and number.
A dry crackle dries me out,
I weep against a tree as on a shoulder.
And a light rain sizzles
Over the gorges, the dry
Forest - the ancient cavern ...
And the darkened horizon ...
Si sfaraie-o ploaie usoara
Pe rapi, pe padurea uscata -
Caverna de-odinioara ...
Si zarea-ntunecata ...