Verses by Lucian Blaga, translated by Julia Kalman
Please make sure to spend a minimum of 30 seconds reading my story.
I truly cherish the interaction of authentic readers. Thank you very much!
You love — when the brass pitcher,
fills itself almost effortlessly,
with flowers and autumn,
with fire, with the season within.
You love — when the gentle icon,
that you craft in sorrow through the ages,
you keep framed, like a wound,
in the ancient green tree.
You love — when through dark eddies of time,
where no rays of the sun reach,
you venture to gather among shadows,
the golden smile of a treasure.
You love — when dormant feelings awaken,
revealing that in the world only the heart is,
and at the end of roads await,
not death, but another story.
You love — when beneath ancient storms,
where sunbeams do not pierce,
you set out to pluck amid shadows,
the brilliant laughter of a treasure trove.
You love — when the entire creation,
in exchange, rest, and tempest,
is within the same measure,
lava infused with the moon.
Please, clap, engage, and… stay tuned for the next story…! But, most importantly, a profound thank you to each one of you. Your unwavering support has been invaluable.
Julia Kalman 