Bits of sweet dialogues are heard at night,
Your whisper’s echo almost wanting
To lighten the ripe thoughts in sight
All burning in the fire of waiting.
Your whisper’s echo slowly dies,
When crickets in the night compete thus,
It’s the chord’s sound that cries,
At the vibration of the seconds that pass.
Through the veil of unbroken dreams,
There’s a star at the end of sight;
The encased glaze is not a glimpse,
Harps on the echo to remain at night!
English Translation by Prof. Alina Drăgan