Constantin P. Popescu : Arca mării
DE CAELO
Pe ramurile tale, arbore noptatic,
văzui al veciilor porumbiel singuratic,
ce, drăgăstos gîngurind, aştepta.
Şi crini purtînd,
vestitorii unei melodioase tragedii
scuturau pe rînd
în urne aripile sidefii.
Prin strălucindul arhipeleag,
din stea în stea, se îndrepta spre lună,
cu toate pînzele întinse.
Melancolie, barca-mi nebună.
Şi printre doruri plutea,
printre cereştile clare odoare.
Melancolie, iubirea mea,
din visări în visare.
DE CAELO
On your branches, nighty tree,
I have seen the lonely dove of the eternity,
which, sweetly cooing, was waiting.
And carrying lilies,
the heralds of a melodious tragedy
were shaking their pearly wings in the urns.
Through the bright archipelago,
from star to star, was heading to the moon,
with its sails up.
Melancholy, my crazy boat.
Among longings was floating,
among the clear heavenly jewels.
Melancholy, my love,
from dreams to dream.
DE CAELO
On your branches, nighty tree,
I have seen the lonely dove of the eternity,
which, sweetly cooing, was waiting.
And carrying lilies,
the heralds of a melodious tragedy
were shaking their pearly wings in the urns.
Through the bright archipelago,
from star to star, was heading to the moon,
with its sails up.
Melancholy, my crazy boat.
Among longings was floating,
among the clear heavenly jewels.
Melancholy, my love,
from dreams to dream.
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