The bouquet [Buchetul]
The sun was shining high above
When I gave you in a bouquet
My precious and consuming love
And my heart's secret in that day.
The posy was my youth, my pearl,
And if today lies withered here,
You maybe didn't kiss it, girl,
O, lovely Mary, O, my dear.
For eons you cannot be mine,
You know it and I know it well,
But love is like a sweet red wine
And getting sober is a hell.
Yet, when in reverie you're caught,
If you can see that bouquet clear,
Give to the poet a nice thought,
O, lovely Mary, O, my dear.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Added by anonym
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