| George Bacovia |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
| Cold |
 |
| I'm near a broken fence, And the wind is beating with wet Leaves. I'm uglier, wasted. The cold sweats on the glass. |
| 1881-1957 |
 |
| Frig |
| Sant langa un gard rupt, Si vantul bate cu frunze ude - Sant mai urat, sant supt, Frigul incepe sticla s-o asude. |
| Pe strada aplecata la vale E-o toamna ca o poezie veche - Vantul impinge fusta femeilor in cale, Cu una din ele nu mai putem fi o pereche. |
 |
 |
| On the street that slopes downhill It's an autumn like an old poem - Women's skirts pushed by the wind, I can No longer be a couple with one of them. |
| Autumn tears posters and flowers, It's sadder still far off in ravines - Light the fire several times a day; Oh, it must be sadder still far off in ravines ... Flakes of snow wandering ... |
| Toamna rupe afise si flori, E mai trist departe-n prapastii - Sa faceti foc pe zi de mai multe ori; O, trebuie sa fie trist departe-n prapastii ... Fulgi de zapada ratacitori ... |