In the strips of woods [În arcane de pădure]
In the strips of woods, the darkness in a scary way is clinging.
Both the crowded leaves are silent and the slender trees, so high;
Night is dumb, and sad, and dying, sheltered by the opaque sky,
But the nightingale is singing, but the nightingale is singing.
In the strips of woods, the tempest in a scary way is spinning,
Sending down a flood of water and a crimson bolt of flame;
Why is harmony a nuisance and a fury without aim,
But the nightingale is singing, but the nightingale is singing.
In the strips of woods, the terror with the quietness is mingling,
Late aurora under foliage cannot come to light the moss,
For in front of it the darkness blocks the way and lies across –
But the nightingale is singing, but the nightingale is singing.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Added by anonym
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
