As births have been declining
on our land indeed,
and we have been consigning
to heathens our breed,
we miss the old-time dawning
when innocence was blessed,
when no one knew of planning
and we, completely dressed,
made love under the cover
of our goosedown quilt,
(like any old-time lover
we shared a sense of guilt)
unheard by nosy neighbors
(who planning knew nought of,
and never did us favors,
but did, at times, make love
in anti-baby linen,
and yes, completely dressed,
restrained and barely grinnin'
to not awake the rest) .
Those were the times of wonder,
of 'breed or disappear'...
So, those of you who ponder
betrothing someone dear,
remember this: the reason
why babies are put forth
is not free will (it isn't!)
but wine of little worth.
Serban Foarta (Translated by Paul Abucean)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem