Old Inns Poem by ion untaru

Old inns, vaults with vines
At the crossroads
Important boyars searching them
For drinking wine from cups

The fields of wheat and golden life,
The horses of fire coming from the wilderness
And the hostess with tight skirts
Stolen by a dragon at night

The musicians playing the chord
And bagpiper playing mournfully
The wind whistling in the lagoon,
And all your nothingness

A lot of delusion
And the illusory dynasty
Your castle of ivory
Constructed of all memories!

Old inns of fairy tales
So many stolen memories
I throw them all away
When the dark night comes to my window

(translated from romanian)