Secondary game

by Ion Barbu

From time, derived the depth of this calm crest,
Entered through mirror in azure redemption,
Cutting on the drowning of rustic herds
Into the water’s groups, a secondary game, more pure.

Latent nadir! The poet rises the summation
Of raveled harps that you lose in reverse flight
And exhausts in song: hidden, just like when the sea
Is walking the medusas under the green bells.

Wanderer longing

song by Tudor Gheorghe (Dorul calator)

Refrain:
My longing ran away from home, longing
When the clime was wonderful, longing
He ran away quite undressed,
Bad weather caught him abroad
And I fear that he is cold, longing.

He came back after a week, longing
With three ice flowers in hand, longing
Half in snow, and half viola
As in cradle on a star, longing…

The half part, covered in snow, longing
Melted by the glowing star, longing
And from longing wanderer, only longing wistfulness
Has remained, just tear and flight, longing…

Refrain:
My longing ran away from home, longing
When the clime was wonderful, longing
He ran away quite undressed,
Bad weather caught him abroad
And I fear that he is cold, longing.