On December 1st, Romania’s National Day, Best of Romanian Poems: ‘The Crown of Wonders’

Verses by Lucian Blaga, translated by Julia Kalman

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The Crown of Wonders

I do not crush the world’s crown of wonders
and do not kill
with the mind the mysteries I encounter
on my way
in flowers, in eyes, on lips, or graves.
The light of others
strangles the enchantment of the impenetrable hidden
in the depths of darkness,
but I,
I, with my light increase the world’s mystery,
and just as with its white rays the moon
does not diminish, but trembles
and intensifies the mystery of the night,
so I enrich the dark horizon
with broad shivers of sacred mystery
and everything that is not understood
transforms into even greater mysteries
before my eyes –
for I love
both flowers and eyes and lips and graves.

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Light

The light I feel
rushing into my chest when I see you,
is it not a drop of the light
created on the first day,
from that light endlessly thirsty for life?

Nothing lay in agony
when darkness floated alone and the Unfathomable
gave a sign:
“Let there be light!”

A sea
and a wild storm of light
were made in an instant:
there was a thirst for sins, adventures, longings, passions,
a thirst for the world and the sun.

But where has the dazzling
light of that time disappeared — who knows?

The light I feel rushing
into my chest when I see you — wondrously,
perhaps it is the last drop
of the light created on the first day.

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Longing

I drink your fragrance with thirst and clasp your cheeks
with both hands, as you embrace
a wonder in your soul.
The closeness burns us, as we stand eye to eye.
And yet you whisper to me: “I miss you so much!”
So secretively, you tell me and eagerly, as if I were
a stranger in another land.

Woman,
what a great thing you carry in your heart and who are you?
Sing to me once again your longing,
so I can listen
and the moments seem like full buds,
from which eternal blossoms bloom — eternal.

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Song for the Year 2000

The eagle that soars high
will have long set by then.

Near Sibiu, near Sibiu, through meadows
only the oaks will still be there by then.

Remind me of a passerby
to a stranger, under their clock?

I do not believe anyone will announce to me
that the tale would begin like this:

He wandered here, and he kept returning ever,
contemporary with butterflies, with God.

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What the Unicorn Hears

Through the world of tales
the buzz of news.

Through the murmur of seas
the weeping of lands.

Through the world of ages
the song of Eves.

Through the roar of time
the voice of nothingness.

Through the rumor of eons
the lament of man.

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Song for Two

And autumn comes again
like after a psalm, amen.
Two of us are ready to taste
the honey-mixed venom.

Two of us are ready to help
the fervor of violets
blossom again in us
this autumn and beyond.

Two of us, when their shadow
surrounds us in the world, the clouds.
What thoughts the sun has with us –
we do not know, but we are two.

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Eve

When the serpent stretched the apple to Eve, it spoke
with a voice resonating
from among leaves like a silver bell.
But it happened that it then whispered
something in her ear
slowly, unspeakably slow,
something not spoken in the scriptures.

Even God did not hear what it specifically whispered
although He was listening too.
And Eve did not want to tell Adam either.
Since then, woman hides a secret beneath her eyelids
and moves her eyelashes as if to say
that she knows something,
that we do not know,
that no one knows,
not even God.

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Please, clap, engage, and… stay tuned for the next poem…! But, most importantly, a profound thank you to each one of you. Your unwavering support has been invaluable.

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