| George Bacovia |
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| Empty |
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| The crackling of fine leaves, Chill shadow in the resonant forest - A silent, maybe grim astonishment, Autumn's dance-like giddiness. |
| 1881-1957 |
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| 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. |
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| 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 ... |