Ploughs

by Lucian Blaga

My friend, you who grew up in the city,
without mercy, like flowers in the windows,
my friend, you, who have never yet seen
field and sun playing under pears in flower,
I want to take you by the hand,
I want to show you the furrows of the century.

On the hills, where you turn,
with beaks dug in the healthy field
there are ploughs, ploughs, countless ploughs,
great black birds.
In order not to scare them –
you have to come close singing.

Come slowly.

(1922)

 

I want to dance

by Lucian Blaga

Oh, I want to dance the way I’ve never danced before!
So that inside of me the Lord would never feel
a slave enchained in prison.
Earth, give me wings:
I want to be an arrow, to cleave
the infinite,
so that the sky is all I see around me,
above me sky,
and only sky beneath –
and caught in waves of light
I dance
struck by formidable blooms,
so that the Lord breathes free in me,
so that He does not murmur:
“I am slave enchained!”