From the threshold [Din prag]
Like evening star
I fade away
And night around
Will soon expand.
When all the past
Dies in my soul
It is replaced
By desert land...
O, icon dear
From other times,
Right now you seem
A ruined dream...
Come closer, please,
To kiss your hand
And blackish eyes,
Which brightly gleam!
The wing of death
Casts shadows deep
On the bad luck
Of vanquished guys.
Detached from life,
I feel how fall
The heavy lids
On my dead eyes...
poem by George Topîrceanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Added by Octavian Cocoş
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