Murim...Ca Maine / We Die...Someday Poem by Magdalena Biela

E-asa de trist să cugeti ca-ntr-o zi,
poate chiar maine, pomii de pe-alee
acolo unde-i vezi or să mai stee
voiosi, în vreme ce vom putrezi.

Atâta soare, Doamne, -atâta soare
o să mai fie-n lume dupa noi;
cortegii de-anotimpuri si de ploi,
cu par din care siruie racoare...

Si iarba asta o să mai rasara,
iar luna tot asa o să se plece,
mirata, peste apa care trece-
noi singuri n-o să fim a doua oara.

Si-mi pare-asa ciudat ca se mai poate
gasi atata vreme pentru ura,
când viata e de-abia o picatura
intre minutu-acesta care bate

si celalalt - si-mi pare ne-nteles
si trist ca nu privim la cer mai des,
ca nu culegem flori si nu zambim,
noi, care-asa de repede murim.


MAGDA ISANOS

........................................

WE DIE...SOMEDAY

It is so sad to think that one blessed day,
even tomorrow, all the alley trees
will be there standing still as now we seize,
cheerful, while we'll be rotting away.

So much sunlight, dear Lord, so much sunlight
after we go will shine upon the world;
cortege of seasons and of rain unfurled
with hair from which is pouring fresh delight...

This grass will sprout again in daily chime,
the moon will bend forever just like now,
amazed, over the neverending flow
just us alone won't be a second time.

I find it strange that still it seems we may
find so much time to waste in loathe and hating,
when life is just a drop, a breath that's bating
between this minute ticking straight away

and the next one - and I'm feeling unwise
and sad for we don't watch enough the skies,
that we don't pick a flower, we don't smile,
we, dead forever, living just a while.


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