Verses by George Topârceanu, translated by Julia Kalman
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Your slender hands upon my forehead lie,
Yet, like a sturdy wall, memories do defy,
A canvas of somber tales, a vast array,
Separates us, as night turns into day.
When my whole being longs for your grace,
You stand dreaming, no movement, no trace,
And countless secrets, veiled in pain,
Get lost in the night of your eyes, so arcane!
I summon the sentence that brings me demise,
Let the wild winds of passion arise,
I seek the icon of you, constant and true,
A vision unseen, yet deeply imbued.
Oh, how I wish to embrace my sorrow,
So many desolate nights I’ve adored it, I borrow,
I’ve sacrificed the youth of my days,
Smiling… you, only your heart conveys.
You’ve given it! A delicate mountain flower,
Perched above an abyss, your power…
(And even now, as you kiss my brow,
You kiss me as one does in a dream somehow!)
For the soul, like the ruins of old,
Holds the light of times untold,
And when a beam reaches me here,
I feel you tremble, my love, near.
It illuminates you, unaware,
The chasm of the past laid bare…
And in this tender heart’s lore,
I listen, though I understand no more.
……………..
Therefore, this evening, I care not,
Whether my pain should dwindle or plot,
I ask you, lost forevermore:
From whence you come, girl, who’s at my door?
George Topârceanu (born on March 20, 1886, Bucharest — died on May 7, 1937, Iași) was a Romanian poet, prose writer, memoirist, and journalist, corresponding member of the Romanian Academy.
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Julia Kalman 