Storm [Furtuna]
No one lingers in the street.
The black clouds come like a fleet.
Fly the dry leaves in the air
And are scattered everywhere,
Tremble the acacias' feet:
Blows the wind, beware!
At the crossroads, far away,
There's a woman on the way
With her kid... Wind blows with force
Hits the gates without remorse
And the woman starts to pray:
Thunders roar, of course.
When the clouds tear like a veil,
The poor mother, with a wail,
Weary and a little numb,
Her heart beating like a drum,
Calls her child so scared and frail:
– Come to mother, come!
Takes him in her arms with grace
Raindrops cruelly strike her face.
The sky breaks and looks severe
He clings with his hands in fear
To his mother, his safe place:
– It is raining, dear!
poem by George Topîrceanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Added by anonym
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