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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=589871" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sing me Gypsy [Cântă-mi lăutare]</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=589871" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">- Sing the doina, Gypsy dear,<br>Of all those who went away<br>To new countries, far from here,<br>By vain wishes led astray!...</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=589871" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The old man, with lowered brow,<br>Holds his fiddle, looking pale:<br>- Well, this song, I tell you now,<br>Is not sung, for it's a wail!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=589871" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">- Wail it, then, to hear the tune<br>Of those gone for good, no doubt,<br>Who have left their homes too soon<br>And in foreign lands die out...</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=589871" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The old man, with dreary eyes, <br>Looks at me as if he's blind:<br>- Well, this song in life – and sighs,<br>Is not sung, is heard in mind.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Ion+Minulescu">Ion Minulescu</a></strong>, translated by Octavian Cocoş</div>

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