Pass years and pass months, bright or shady,
And weeks fly away in a row.
Good bye and keep safe, my dear lady,
I'm packing my suitcase and go!
I don't know what haven awaits me,
I start with my luggage right now,
What demon is driving me crazy,
What secret makes me leave the town.
I feel that the walls are oppressive,
A tenant, that's all I have been;
In this life so short and impressive,
I need many changes of scene.
I've lived for a month in the attic,
From there, near the window's white frame,
I've watched day and night world's dramatic
And funny performance, my dame.
The moon at my window was humming,
The town seemed to send me a call
To watch in the light that was shining
All things that in it would befall...
Above, in a room small and hidden,
Were living behind the same door
A senior, an actor, a kitten,
While downstairs, on a spacious floor,
Dwelt a dame cherished much by adults
And a stag with short beard and polite,
A stern and grave face from the Cults,
Whose black boots were clean and shone bright.
I left through a heavy rain shower,
Took a tram with my bag to get dry
And arrived at a very late hour
On Stork Street, at Mr. Mihai.
The trees in the garden were dark green,
The windows were painted with lime...
In front lived the lovely miss Irene
And a clerk with a face creased by time.
You could stand there and silently watch
A corner of a cozy room
And the ivy that covered the porch,
The flowers with pleasant perfume...
The lilac was then in full blossom
And the night was scented and fine
The porch spread a fragrance so awesome,
The clerk had a daughter divine...
For hours I sat neath the bower
And waited, not far from the door,
(For the clerk, that old man grave and sour,
Had the habit to fidget and snore).
Very late, when the curtain was drawn
I was pleased that my waiting bore fruits...
But I left on that road of my own
Being scared in that place to take roots.
O, strange views, so hasty and fleeting!
You don't know I'm still holding fast
To the scent of a flower appealing,
The fragrance of my deceased past...
I lived with an aunt I admire
And elswhere, I don't care a fig,
At Mr. Manuc, a nice squire
Who had a crooked nose, rather big;
On Royal Road I lived with Mary
(She begged me to stay always there,
And wrote me a letter so merry);
With Şbeck then, at the Union Square;
At Grant bridge, near Sbierea's inn surely,
At Witing, at Tei in hotel,
I felt all the time, prematurely,
The power of that mystic spell.
My life is a race rather shady,
But thus all the pains quickly flow...
Goodbye and keep safe, my dear lady,
I'm packing my suitcase and go!
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