Dies Irae



How strange I am from my country,

And no longing missed me,

Bad thought, and dark

Closes the voice of the right.

It will be late that day…

And in my way haunts

Silences of time, sinister hungry !

Or songs that always cry:

“Hurry, don’t wait anymore !”

George Bacovia, Dies Irae


dies irae = day of wrath (Latin)

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The Sailing Vessel



The rich sands

Have filled the bay, and we

Waiting for a sign of departure… Now,

The sky is clear and the birds,

Why don’t birds sing anymore ?

Oh, even the rum

From the green


Sounds a bit like a whisper.

Sing friends and freely lift

The canvas !

On the black hills


The eagle owl.

Sing… Only you don’t know

The wind is good and the sailing vessel

Rests on the sand.

Iosif Caraiman, Corabia

translated from Romanian by Marcel Rus

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