DUMINICĂ
Crezi că nu ştiu
Că în dosul
Acestui mirific incendiu
Al pădurii căzute în roşu
Nu e decît timpul
Laş care trece
Mascîndu-şi plecarea
Cu spectaculoase şi ipocrite minuni ?
Crezi că nu ştiu
Că gutuile
Nu cad sub regala
Lor greutate,
Ci-nvinse de-omizi
Născute din dragostea
Prevăzătoare
A meschinilor fluturi
Extravaganţi şi nebuni ?
Crezi că nu ştiu
Că victorioasa întoarcere
A lăstunilor
Nu-i decît rezultatul
Alegerii crude
A celor puternici şi răi
Dintre cei slabi şi buni ?
Fii liniştit,
Mi s-a spus
Totul şi nici o iluzie
N-a rămas nealungată,
Învăţătorii şi-au făcut datoria.
Dacă, în după-amiaza
De duminică-a toamnei
Lumea îmi pare perfectă,
Numai eu sunt vinovată,
Numai eu voi plăti luni.
SUNDAY
Do you think I don't know
That behind
This wonderful fire
Of the forest turned in red
It isn't but the cowardly
Time that is passing
Hiding its departure
With spectacular and hypocritical wonders ?
Do you think I don't know
That quinces
Do not fall under their royal
Weight
But won by the caterpillars
Born of the cautious
Love
Of the petty butterflies
Extravagant and foolish ?
Do you think I don't know
That the triumphant return
Of the martins
It isn't but the result
Of the cruelselection
Of the powerful and wicked
Among the weak and good ?
Be quiet,
I was told
Everything and no illusion
Remained unbanished,
Teachers have made their duty.
If in the Sunday afternoon
Of autumn
The world seems to me perfect,
It's only my fault
Only I shall pay it on Monday.
SUNDAY
Do you think I don't know
That behind
This wonderful fire
Of the forest turned in red
It isn't but the cowardly
Time that is passing
Hiding its departure
With spectacular and hypocritical wonders ?
Do you think I don't know
That quinces
Do not fall under their royal
Weight
But won by the caterpillars
Born of the cautious
Love
Of the petty butterflies
Extravagant and foolish ?
Do you think I don't know
That the triumphant return
Of the martins
It isn't but the result
Of the cruelselection
Of the powerful and wicked
Among the weak and good ?
Be quiet,
I was told
Everything and no illusion
Remained unbanished,
Teachers have made their duty.
If in the Sunday afternoon
Of autumn
The world seems to me perfect,
It's only my fault
Only I shall pay it on Monday.
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