two poems by George Bacovia

(my translations)

Gray

A wailing of omens against the panes to say

Winter leaden on the world like a stone ---

“Crows!" I told myself and sighed, alone,

And now on the horizon heavy as lead,

It snows gray.

Like the horizon, my mood is dark as the day …

The wildest, loneliest of all this world.

--- With a feather, I sweep the hearth grown cold …

And on the horizon heavy as lead,

It snows gray.

Gri

Plâns de cobe pe la geamuri se opri,

Şi pe lume plumb de iarnă s-a lăsat;

I-auzi corbii! ― mi-am zis singur... şi-am oftat,

Iar în zarea grea de plumb,

Ninge gri.

Ca şi zarea, gândul meu se înnegri...

Şi de lume tot mai singur, mai barbar,

― Trist, cu-o pană mătur vatra, solitar...

Iar în zarea grea de plumb,

Ninge gri.

Lead

Deeply asleep the coffins of lead,

And leaden flowers and charnel shroud ---

I stood alone in the vault … The wind was loud,

Screaking in the wreaths of lead.

Upturned, slept my beloved of lead,

On leaden flowers, and I began my grief,

Alone by her corpse, cold without relief,

And the drooping wings wrought in lead.

Plumb

Dormeau adânc sicriele de plumb,

Şi flori de plumb şi funerar vestmânt

― Stam singur în cavou... şi era vânt...

Şi scârţâiau coroanele de plumb.

Dormea întors amorul meu de plumb

Pe flori de plumb... şi-am început să-l strig

― Stam singur lângă mort... şi era frig...

Şi-i atârnau aripile de plumb.