Alchemy [Alchimie] - Lucian Blaga

What turns into poetry?
Only the things that have died out
and are preserved in mind.
Only what you have left behind,
but still can't live without.
Only departure and return.
Only the route of cranes
The leaves, which fall dead on the ground,
and people's toil and pains.

Added by: Octavian

Translator: Octavian Cocoş
Language: English


see more poems written by: Lucian Blaga



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