Nichita Stanescu

Then we met more often.
I stood at one side of the hour,
you at the other,
like two handles of an amphora.
Only the words flew between us,
back and forth.
You could almost see their swirling,
and suddenly,
I would lower a knee,
and touch my elbow to the ground
to look at the grass, bent
by the falling of some word,
as though by the paw of a lion in flight.
The words spun between us,
back and forth,
and the more I love you, the more
they continued, this whirl almost seen,
the structure of matter, the beginnings of things.

Nichita Stanescu

Tell me, if I caught you one day
And kissed the sole of your foot—
Wouldn’t you limp a little afterwards
Afraid you’re going to crush my kiss?


Adrian Păunescu

So what if Primăvara comes?
There's so much winter left in us
That March and the migrating cranes
Can turn around and travel back

In us there's space only for winter
We'll freeze under the final frost.
Trying to find our way on thin ice
Like an embarrassment toward another

And from the warmer countries come
The geese of the last Fall
And their nests under the roof have dried
And next to me there is no you.

Changes more serious than death
Have been, there are, and there will be
A storm is taking place inside me
And crazy people come to ski

It snows and reaches the prasele

The snow is entering my soul
A dance of snow... of snow and snowmen
Which hugging can no more

In us there's winter for eternity
Of former and unhappy lovers
Take all your blossoms, Primăvara
And also your migrating cranes!

Virgil Carianopol

From their sleep of darkest night
From where they stayed away from beauty
Return again the orchards home
In flowery dresses reaching to the ground.

It's Primăvara, again Primăvara
On every boundary of the trail
The ancestors are pushing out their fingers
Of Snowdrops, of Lilies, of Mountain-Violets.

Again the scent of fields is felt
Again the Sun is throwing measles down
At the elaborate song of the Lark
Burst out the harvests' heads.

The day is spreading all around with Sparrows
In forests Cuckoos have again assaulted
The birds are fighting with their songs in swords
And bring their voices in for sharpening.

It's Primăvara, again Primăvara
On every boundary of the trail
The ancestors are pushing out their fingers
Of Snowdrops, of Lilies, of Mountain-Violets

Ion Alexandru

Soft light, lights soft
Rise from big forests of lilies
Soft light nest of wax
Hollows of millennial honey
From beyond Universes coming
At no time resting
A never ceasing rising
Soft light of soft light.

Whomever knows you loves you
In loving you they hope
That one day soft light
You will remain with us entirely
Whomever accepts to believe in you
Three people will come their way.

Soft light, lights soft
Rise from big forests of lilies
There is so much darkness and oblivion
That worlds have perished in the distance
What's left of their watchfulness
The lights of lights.

Soft light, lights soft
Alienating strangers
Light soft, nuptial, remedy
Healing century after century.

The saddened and forgotten
The wept and the unfaired
The thirsty pilgrim
All at your hearth have passed the night.

Soft light, divine remedy
Wreathing the strangers
Beyond quenched Earth
Soft light holy Logos
Beyond quenched Earth
Soft light holy Logos.

Marin Sorescu

Purveyor of our light, and lamp,
the day has put you out;
how like a fool, how like a goose you stand,
how glowless, in the daytime.
You are dimmer yet
than the glow-worm eyes of cats.
But I love you, all the same.


Marin Sorescu

There used to be twenty generations within me.
At least.
I cannot tell why but this morning,
Maybe because the window was open,
One of us took a leap from the top floor.

Then, one by one,
Every one of us began to leap off,
As if from a diving-board,
One after the other, like links in a chain,
Embodying the lemming's

Half an hour later,
I too was stark naked.
To my shame I too had leapt off.
It seems I died around the fourth floor;
Anyway, around the second,
I was out of the picture.

You are being told this
By a passer-by,
That is, by one of us
Who came out smelling of roses.

Sleepers II by George Tooker 1959

Ana Blandiana

I happen to cry out,
Only when asleep,
And frightened by my own daring
I wake,
In the well-disciplined silence of night,
And try to hear
Cries from neighbours' sleep.
But the neighbours are wise
Crying out only when they're sure
That they dream they're asleep.
In the sleep within sleep
Where no one can hear,
They give way to cries.
What free uproar
Must be there,
In the sleep within sleep.

Rhea Cristina

My blood
is howling like a wolf in love.
It burdened with
the Heavens' trembling.
The heart is looking for a gentler animal
than I was.
The pack of death wants me.

from Man and his Symbols by Carl G. Jung 1964