Scrieri din neputință(Writings of Helplessness)-Translation-Elena Buzatu

- I'm sad, sadder than a path that leads home
with no traces on snow

- my soul surrounded by stones
 is like a bell
 with no echo
 in which no Sunday Angel is asleep.

- I’m dreaming at the happiness from someone else's heart
 - how cold are your tears, yours,
 those who come into our homes and our hearts dirtying the
 where it shall snow anyways
- maybe, you can still go
 the land of our homes conceals the curse that may still be
 and guards the living flame in the depth of the mountains

do not dare to wake it
go out slow, slower than you’ve come.

©Luminița Amarie
Translation- Elena Buzatu