If I could but briefly seize
The wings of the passing breeze
I would quickly fly out then
In the world, and from above,
That I've cared for you, my love,
I would tell you once again.
Mercy wouldn't try to gain,
But if you could see the pain
That is always on my face,
Like the hasty breeze, I say,
All your hate would go away
And you'd show me warmth and grace.
Translator: Octavian Cocoş
see more poems written by: Veronica Micle
