Stairway to sky*

by Marin Sorescu

A spider wire
Hangs from the ceiling.
Right above my bed.

Every day I observe it
Coming lower.
I tell myself:
– I am being sent
A stairway to sky.
It is being thrown from above.

Although I lost so much weight,
I am only the ghost of the man I once was,
I believe that my body
Is yet too heavy
For this delicate stairway.

– My soul, you go first.
Slowly, slowly.

* Marin Sorescu’s last poem

There are frightening crests

by Vasile Voiculescu

In our souls there are frightening crests,
Yet nobody climbs them, they are untouched,
Above, over mists – storms and disasters,
Upon them the light never dies out…

The sunrise sends  there its very first ray,
And his final glow the twilight does send,
Upon their foreheads the light always shines,
Like a kiss which will never come to an end.

Seldom, an eagle with brown wings appears,
Wandering flies on the crests, and then sits,
For deeply caught in the charm of bright secrets
He abides in the heights, and never descends.


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.



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!”

Too late

by Tudor Gheorghe

Lord I fear it’s been a long while
Since I’ve arrive in the middle and I do not know
What am I? Question or answer?
Am I dead or still alive?

Strange sounds touch me
Leaving blood-colored traces on me,
The snow that falls on me
It comes too late, it comes too late…

Where did I go wrong and what word
Wanders astray from fearing me?
And for what longing was I grave
And for what sun was I sunset?

Show me the way and I will go
Without a single glance behind,
But give me one tear of cuckoo
On a tiny clover leaf

To take as candle for the road
To keep me company in night,
When the small knot will hang with smoke
And it will softly sing a song.

Strange sounds touch me
Leaving bloody traces on me,
The snow that falls on me
It comes too late, it comes too late…

Lord I fear it’s been a long while
Since I’ve arrive in the middle and I do not know
What am I? Question or answer?
Am I dead or still alive?

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.