Nichita Stănescu

CU O UŞOARĂ NOSTALGIE

Cu cît se-nsera peste arborii rari,
cu atît începeau să lumineze mai tare
inimile noastre de hoinari,
căutătorii pietrei filozofale.

Totul trebuia să se transforme în aur,
absolut totul :
cuvintele tale, privirile tale, aerul
prin care pluteam, sau treceam de-a-notul.

Clipele erau mari ca nişte lacuri
de cîmpie,

şi noi nu mai conteneam traversîndu-le.
Ora îşi punea o coroană de nori, liliachie.

Ţi-aduci aminte suflete de-atunci, tu, gîndule ?


WITH A GENTLE NOSTALGIA

The more the evening was falling over the scarce trees
the more our hearts of vagabonds
began to light more
looking for the philosopher's stone.

Everything had to change in gold,
absolutely everything :
your wards, your looks, the air
we were soaring through, we were swimming through.

The moments were great like
plain lakes,
and we didn't stop to cross them anymore.
The hour put a crown of clouds, lilac-coloured.
Do you remember my soul of than,you, thought ?