by Nichita Stanescu
Autumn's come, cover my heart with something,
with a tree's shadow or, better, with your shadow.
I'm afraid that I won't be able to see you, sometimes,
that some wings will grow onto me, pointed to the clouds,
and that you'll hide away into a stranger's eye
and it'll close up with a mug wort leaf.
And then I approach the stones and I keep silent,
I take the words and drown them into the sea.
I whistle the moon and I rise it and I turn it
into an endless love.
(Translated from Romanian by Brigitta Daniela Buda)
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