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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-10-17 | [Este texto deve ser lido em english] | Submetido por Axel Lenn
So much stillness me surrounding I clearly seem to hear
them late-night moonbeams crushing now against my windows. My chest’s too strange a voice just woken up and sings a song in me a will mine not at all. They say that all the ancestors who died agelessly by chance, dead veins young blooded still their own, too great desires in blood their own, still living sun in their desires, come, they always come to further live in us their merely unlived life. So much stillness me surrounding I clearly seem to hear them late-night moonbeams crushing now against my windows. O, who knows – soul mine, whose chest shall lodge the echo singing song yours in centuries to come on strings of stillness still so sweet, on darkness so the same a harp – the strangled will and joy of life too broken still? who knows? who knows? (Adapted translation by Axel H. Lenn - after "Liniste", vol. POEMELE LUMINII, 1919, by Lucian Blaga)
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