The leaden coffins slept and looked so bleak,
So did the leaden flowers and the shroud –
The vault kept me alone... wind roared aloud...
And all the leaden wreaths began to creak.
My leaden love slept tied with gauzy strings
On leaden flowers and her name I called –
Next to her corpse I stood... and I was cold...
And to the ground hung down her leaden wings.
Translator: Octavian Cocoş
see more poems written by: George Bacovia
