Pastel poem [Pastel]
At sunset, from beyond the peaks,
Red blinks at dusk in silence glow
They break in small and shining streaks,
Which into shaded Danube flow.
The murky waves bury them all
And under osiers downstream,
On water hardly shake and crawl
Like orange peel, or so they seem.
Down there, above the forest, soon,
Where shrubberies are dark and wet,
Rises the handsome crescent moon
And sparkles from a minaret.
And, as if painted with this goal,
The island casts its shadow long,
Cut from the world, playing the role
Of a medieval castle, strong.
Looks like a ship charmed near the shore
Which anchored at the mountains' feet,
A wonder dreamed and waited for
By the old Danube's water sheet!
In the clear nights, calm, half asleep,
It waited for the morning bright,
To get out of the water deep
And come to surface in the light
A floating garden, purest one,
With trees and birds that sing in tune,
With flowers laughing at the sun,
But trembling scared under the moon.
poem by George Topîrceanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Added by anonym
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