Beautiful she was like the shade of an idea,
her spine smelled like skin of a child when being near,
like stone when freshly broken,
a cry in a tongue no longer spoken.
She had no weight whatsoever, like the breath.
The laughing and crying one with large tears
was salty like the salt praised
at their feasts by barbarian peers.
Beautiful she was like a shade of thought unheard.
Among waters, she alone was being earth.
Translator: Vasile Andreica
see more poems written by: Nichita Stănescu
