A green, green tree in my courtyard stands.
The sunshine loves it, the breezes rock it;
But when snow hath fallen, the tree forgetteth
That April once was here.
The moon, she fears the sunshine sore,
Because the sunshine knows full well
Wherefore the moonlight is so pale.
The moon is loth that the sun should tell
Her secret; and she hides away
When the sun comes forth, that so, perchance,
The sunshine may forget.
But I am brother to the sun.
He telleth me his secrets all —
How he hath taught the birds to sing.
The ears of com to turn to gold
The forests to grow green.
And thus he hath betrayed to me
Wherefore the moon is pale.
Elena Văcărescu (1864 - 1947) Romania
Translated by Carmen Sylva and Alma Strettell
Source: The bard of the Dimbovitza. Rovmanian folk-songs collected from the peasants
by Elena Văcărescu, translated by Carmen Sylva and Alma Strettell, J. R. Osgood, McIlvaine & co, 1892
I try as far as possible to include poets from as many countries of the world as possible in my WW1 Exhibition Project. For that reason I have included poets who did not write about the First World War. Elena is one of the poets I included as the Eastern Front and the countries involved is often overlooked in Britain.
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