I knew it better than the dream in the hymn
Praising spring. Better than homesickness
And despondence, or the wind recapping the psalms
Of movement through fragrant valleys
Joined to restless water-courses.
The silence of leaves: blotted out
From afar, and even my touch surrendered
No feeling. Did the passing of centuries
Allow me the joy which is my only defence?
Come, we shall have to go further
And ever keep moving.
Turn here: the sons of light
Harvest the sap of time's vine
From the grapes growing in space.
They meet in water-branches
Reach through your neighbour's season of summer
When gold is minted in coins.
Reveries? Never.
Mountains are drawn in the air
And their manes are floating
In the throb of the sun's hour;
A child gazes to it.
Nicolae Sirius (born 1950) Romania
Translated by Dr Walter Tonetto
Source: Poezii Romanesti
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