Melancholy [Melancolie] - George Bacovia

A wail can be heard in the autumn
The woods in a wild voice are calling,
Long trumpets are blown in the valley
And echoes a doina in mourning.

– Now listen, my love, with attention,
Don't cry, for the torment's a rival,
But hear how the earth tells us plainly
It waits for our final arrival.

Added by: Octavian

Translator: Octavian Cocoş
Language: English


see more poems written by: George Bacovia



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