| George Bacovia |
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| Winter Lead |
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| And again ... the same hour in the morning ... The same secret smoulders over everything; A violet cold, and the face is creased - - O, how concrete has man become ... |
| 1881-1957 |
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| Plumb de Iarna |
| Si iar ... aceeasi ora de dimineata ... Pe toate mocnind acelasi secret; Un frig violet, si fata e creata - - O, cum omul a devenit concret ... |
| Lungi plictiseli in turnurile sumbre ... Noian de superstitii, cu hohot sec, tarziu; - Vei merita o lampa-n mohorate umbre Si corbii azvarliti de-al noptilor pustiu. |
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| Long tedium in sombre towers ... A mass Of superstitions, with a dry, late cackle; - You will deserve a lamp in dreary shadows And ravens hurled by wilderness of nights. |
| If in the stormy night you can command A glum acceptance, or a secret humour - They'll hear in the towers, they'll see how it snows ... - O, how concrete man become ... |
| In noaptea viforoasa de vei putea invinge O trista-ngaduire, sau un humor secret - Vor auzi in turnuri, se vor uita cum ninge ... - O, cum omul a devenit concret ... |