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)

 

In your mother tongue

lyrics by Grigore Vieru, song by Tudor Gheorghe

All the people in the world
Cry in the same language.
In the same language
An entire Earth laughs.
Only in your mother tongue
You can comfort the pain,
And the joy
You can change into song.

Refrain:

In your mother tongue
You miss your mother,
And wine is more wine,
And lunch is more lunch.
And only in your mother tongue
You can laugh by yourself,
And only in your mother tongue
You can stop crying.

And when you can’t
Cry or laugh,
When you cannot caress
Or sing,
With your land,
With your sky in front of you,
You are quiet then
In your mother tongue.

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.