Copacii aşteaptă plângând
Să vină primăvara,
Să renască iar natura.
Covoare-ntinse pe alei
Din crengi uscate de tei,
Stau suspinând sub paşii grei.
Doi albi porumbei
Zboară timizi pe lângă noi,
Lăsând în urmă al toamnei noroi.
Sunetul ploii, din somn ne trezeşte,
Furtuna nu ne ocoleşte,
Tunetul ne asurzeşte
Iar fulgerul ne orbeşte.
Mai trece-un an, apoi alt an,
Timpul, ne este duşmanul
pământean,
Rădăcinile copacilor se clatină,
Frunzele din Pomul Vieţii
noastre se scutură.
Ne mai albesc firele de păr,
Nu mai avem aripi de cocor
Căci ni s-au frânt în zbor.
Ne amintim cu-atâta dor de copilărie,
Cât mai avem de trăit, nimeni nu ştie!
Totuşi ne-a rămas o rază de speranţă,
Hai să ne trăim în iubire
ultima parte din viaţă!
Să uităm de apele învolburate,
Hai să ne bucurăm de libertate!
Gunoaiele vremii
Vor fi luate de vântul poznaş,
Visele deşarte le vom pune pe făraş,
De gândurile triste ne vom debarasa
Ca de mormanul de talaş,
Vom păstra în suflete noastre,
Doar zâmbetul unui copil gingaş.
© Crisastemis
Din Volumul - Contraste
Melancholy of autumn
Thousands of leaves fall trembling,
The trees expecting crying
to come back the spring,
To revive all nature.
Carpets of dry twigs of lime,
Were spread across alleys
groaning under heavy steps.
Two white pigeons, flying shy
around us,
They leave behind
the mud of autumn.
The sound of rain,
wakes us from sleep,
We can not avoid the storm.
Because of thunders
our ears hurt us,
The lightning, blinds us.
Another year passing,
then another year,
The time, is our earthly enemy,
The roots of trees tossing,
Leaves from the Tree of Life
are dried.
Our hair is white,
We do not have wings of bird
Because were broken in flight.
We remember
with so much longing of childhood,
How much time
we have to live no one knows!
Yet it remained one hope,
Let's live in love
the last part of our life!
Let's forget of the dark waters,
Let's enjoy of freedom!
The garbage of time
Will be taken
by the wild wind,
The empty dreams
we'll put them on the shovel,
We'll discard by
the sad thoughts
As of the pile of shavings,
We'll keep in our souls,
Only the gentle smile of a child.
The lightning, blinds us.
Another year passing,
then another year,
The time, is our earthly enemy,
The roots of trees tossing,
Leaves from the Tree of Life
are dried.
Our hair is white,
We do not have wings of bird
Because were broken in flight.
We remember
with so much longing of childhood,
How much time
we have to live no one knows!
Yet it remained one hope,
Let's live in love
the last part of our life!
Let's forget of the dark waters,
Let's enjoy of freedom!
The garbage of time
Will be taken
by the wild wind,
The empty dreams
we'll put them on the shovel,
We'll discard by
the sad thoughts
As of the pile of shavings,
We'll keep in our souls,
Only the gentle smile of a child.
© Crisastemis
From The Volume - Contrasts
From The Volume - Contrasts
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