Hidden Things Poem by ion untaru

all hidden things of a day
seen by night,
when melancholically floating
like zephyr over the streets

houses looked like cages with iron bars
where wrong steps of each day
returned like steam spiders
tormenting people sleep

each morning
people start a journey way
and when didn't no more
where to go,
called children in aid

spent his whole life in the forest
forgetting talk with people

he had learned speech of birds
became a friend
of all forest's beings
and knew to fly

(translated from romanian)