To Galateea

by Nichita Stanescu

I know all your moments, all your movements, all your perfumes,
and your shadow, and your silences, and your breast
their tremble, and their color,
and your pace, and your melancholy, and your brows,
and your blouse, and your ring, and the second,
and I can no longer wait, and I drop my knee in the stones
and I beseech you,
give birth to me.

I know all that is away from you,
so far away that there is no more near –
the after-noon, the after-horizon, the beyond-the-sea…
and all that is beyond them,
and so distant, it no longer has a name.
That is why I bend my knee, and I lay it
on the stones’ knee, humming it.
And I beseech you,
give birth to me.

I know all you never know, from inside of you.
The heart beat following the heart beat that you hear,
the end of the word, whose first sillable you speak,
the trees – wooden shades of your veins,
the rivers – moving shades of your blood,
and the stones, the stones – stone shades of my knee,
which I bend in front of you and I beseech you,
give birth to me. Give birth to me.


by Nichita Stanescu

He held out towards me a leaf like a hand with fingers.
I held out towards him a hand like a leaf with teeth.
He held out towards me a branch like an arm.
I held out towards him my arm like a branch.
He leaned his trunk like an apple towards me.
I leaned towards him my shoulder
like a gnarled trunk.
I could hear his sap accelerating, beating
like blood.
I could hear my blood slowing down, ascending like sap.
I passed through him.
He passed through me.
I remained a solitary tree.
a solitary man.


by Bartolomeu Anania

Lord, hold out Your stole
on my face of clay,
to whiten with Your chalk
my fool and ugly soul,
when sunset spins its thread
over a small quiet thought.

Our neighbors will hear us if I speak,
and judgment is a sin,
I stand on a corner, bent,
I write the burden of my guilt,
while You, at dinner time
whisper You’ve forgiven me.

Roosted on a new hearth
we will march towards a new song,
I, a handful of dust,
You, light in a dew drop,
we will work at the book,
You – three, I – one word.

And wearing Your sandals
You will walk on stellar path,
in the letters’ border,
I will stop You in Your way,
and in the miracle of Your will
I will drink You from the chalice.

In secret loving

by Mihai Eminescu

In secret loving I have kept the silence,
Thinking that you will like it more this way,
For in your eyes I read an everlastingness
Of murderously pleasure fantasies.

But I cannot endure it. Longing’s power
Gives words to tender mysteries;
I want to drown in the sweet kindling
Of that soul alone who knows my soul.

Do you not see my mouth is thirsty
And in my eyes my torment burns
My beautiful with long blonde hair beloved?

With your breath you can cool my moaning,
And with your smile you make my thinking drunk,
Please end this pain, and come to my embrace.

The Forgivings

by Ducu Bertzi


You will forgive me every night
And I will lie to you everyday
And as long as your heart will endure
The more I will do you wrong, the more I will love you.

Forgive me for everything that is happening to me,
That my eyes sometimes are cloudless, sometimes green,
That I carry mud or snow on my temple,
You will forgive, otherwise you will lose me.
I see the world through powerful lenses
And I see gardens with great lights of fire,
Under my hand the Earth is dying already
And in my ears I have the Rock continent.


You will forgive me because I can’t live without you
And if you can’t and if you can’t
For me, losing you is better,
Me, the saddest, most free man of them all.
You will forgive me for my weakness
For passing the exams in a lightning
You will forgive me, my kind one, for everything,
I am your common immortal.


And when your heart will break one day
And you cannot forgive me anymore
I will go in the front line
And surrender myself to foreign weapons
And since death washes everything
Making them noble, in fiction,
You will bend over my death
And you will forgive me forever.


Arise, arise, arise*

by Doina and Ion Aldea Teodorovici

I love to sing of you
Writing coming from the stars,
I kiss
Your every letter
Like I kiss my mother’s eyes.

Rejoice, Latin writing
For you didn’t come as a stranger
On the sour-sweet valley,
You came in your own country,
You came to your brothers.


Arise, arise, arise
Like green wheat,
Like the tear
Arise, arise, arise
And don’t leave again
My love.

Purple apples on the branch,
Valleys filled with golden wheat.
We were so poor
Without you,
Our beloved writing.


* Doina and Ion Aldea Teodorovici (they died together in October 30, 1992 in a “car accident”) are two musicians from Republic Moldova, and they sing about the Romanian language, which is of the Latin family, and is the official country’s language (since Republic Moldova is Romanian land). Republic Moldova was under Russian occupation, so they were forced to speak Russian and use the Russian alphabet. They were pro-union between Republic Moldova and Romania, after the fall of communism and they supported this cause in their music, through concerts in both countries.