If you disappear may
On a night like any other,
O, my sweet, my bitter maid,
I would madly the sea wander
And with clay I'd fill my sack
And rods on my back I'd carry,
With my hands' strength to remake
You in body and soul merry.
Long labor and monotone,
Woman, for your ressurection,
Me, lovesick Pygmalion -
Galatea, walk to action!
If you disappear may,
Damn your death to only living,
O, my sweet, my bitter maid,
I'd be for icy lands leaving
And cold icicles I'd strike
To sculpt you, with frost for clothing,
Then wherever you may like
You can leave, owing me nothing.
If you really would fall
At the moment of great bending,
To your heaven I'd come whole,
You from angels reassembling.
Thereafter I shall go,
Humbled and so illusory,
Where I do have my home -
Attic straight in purgatory.
If you disappear may
From my laughter and my crying,
Inside me i'd find you stay,
From myself to build you trying.
Translator: Vasile Andreica
see more poems written by: Adrian Păunescu
