Silence

By Lucian Blaga

Silence

Such a deep silence surrounds me, that I think I hear

moonbeams striking on the windows.

In my chest, 

a strange voice is awakens

and a song plays inside me 

a longing that is not mine.

They say that ancestors, dead before their time,

with young blood still in their veins,

with great passion in their blood,

with the sun still burning in their blood

come,

come to continue to live

within us

their unfinished lives.

Such a deep silence surrounds me, that I think I hear

moonbeams striking on the windows.

O, who knows, soul of mine, in which chest you will sing

you also, after centuries,

in soft ropes of silence,

on harps of obscurity - the drowned longing 

and the pleasure of living torn? Who knows? 

Who knows?

We And The Earth

So many Stars fall tonight. 

The evil of the night holds the Earth between his hands

and blows balls of flames upon the Earth, 

forcefully, burning it. 

Tonight, when so many 

stars fall, your young witch 

body burns in my arms 

as if it was between ardent flames. 

In madness, 

I extend my arms like a flare, 

to melt the snow from your naked shoulders 

and to drink, consume with hunger, 

your strength, blood, pride, your spring, everything. 

At the dawn, as the day illuminates the night, 

when the ashes of the night are gone, taken 

by the wind to the west;

at the dawn, we also wish to be 

just ashes, ourselves- the Earth.

The Oak

Clear, distant, from

the breast of a tower

I can hear a bell's heartbeat,

and in its sweet echoes

it seems that my veins flow

with drops of silence.

Oak tree at the forest's edge

why does this soft winged peace

overcome me, defeat me

when I lie in your shadow

while you caress me

with your playful leaves?

Oh, who can tell

Perhaps the time will soon come

when from your trunk

they will make my coffin

and I am feeling now the peace

I will taste between its boards:

I feel the peace dropping with your leaves

in my soul - and, silenced

with each passing moment

I listen to the sound of my coffin

steadily growing in your trunk,

oak at the forest's edge.