George Bacovia
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Morning
A cup of black coffee ... and an icy rain,
While still in the room the spirit is burning
Colours - a glanse at a book, at my clothes,
And my steps lead me out into morning.
1881-1957
George Bacovia (1881-1957)
Dimineata
O cafea neagra ... si-o ploaie de gheata,
Cand spiritul mai arde culori in odaie -
O privire pe-o carte, pe straie,
Si pasul ma-ndruma in dimineata.
Cand frigul, tremurand ca o veste,
Tot plange de-al meu si de-al tau ...
Tot mai mult am ramas cu ce este,
Si ploua cu parere de rau.
How the cold, shivering like the news,
Groans over what's mine and what's yours ...
More and more I am left with what is,
And it's raining, raining repentance.
I forget if I walk ... I am still in love ...
I've got there in time, and there's somewhere to sit.
But thought presses down with its heavy block ...
There's only vision ... I can no longer talk ...
Am uitat daca merg ... inca tot mai iubesc ...
Am ajuns la timp, ocup si un loc.
Dar gandul apasa cu greul sau bloc ...
E numai vedere ... nu mai pot sa vorbesc ...