| George Bacovia |
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| Toward Autumn |
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| Fevered on the roads, When autumn comes around, One thought masters me, Hounds me and goads: - Vanish faster! |
| 1881-1957 |
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| Spre Toamna |
| Pe drumuri delirand, Pe vreme de toamna, Ma urmareste-un gand Ca ma indeamna: - Dispari mai curand! |
| In casa iubitei de-ajung, Eu zgudui fereastra nervos, Si-o chem ca sa vada cum ploua Frunzisul, in targul ploios. |
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| When I reach my loved one's house, I shake the window nervously And call her to see rain fall In the rainy town, on greenery. |
| But look, that's a Jewish corpse ... The weader's soggy, mud and rain - To the strange semitic murmuring I add myself, and fall in line. |
| Dar, iata, si-un mort evreiesc ... Si ploua, e moima, noroi - In murmure semite M-adaug si eu in convoi. |
| Si nimeni nu stie ce-i asta - M-afund intr-o crasma sa scriu, Sau rad si pornesc inspre casa, Si-acolo ma-nchid ca-n sicriu. |
| And no one knows what's going on - I sink into a pub to write, Or laugh and head towards my home, And lock myself as in a tomb. |
| And fevered as ever, When autumn comes around, One thought masters me And sends me to sleep: - Vanish faster! |
| Si mereu delirand, Pe vreme de toamna, M-adoarme un gand Ce ma indeamna: - Dispari mai curand ... |