Their hive [Stupul lor]

Their small hive, on glen below,
Is defended all around
By three poplars full of snow,
Rising from the snowy ground.

The beekeeper left them there
And the winter covered all –
Bringing sadness and despair –
With a nice embroidered shawl.

Yet, inside the cozy hive
All the bees, without delay,
As a single body strive
And work hard, day after day.

For they never toil alone
But together, all the time,
Buzzing on a lively tone
They make honey sweet, sublime.

poem by Tudor Arghezi, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Added by Octavian Cocoş
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Belated love [Dragoste târzie]

Whether I loved you as you love, I think
My heart would whisper yes, my mind would shrink.
You thought the flood would take away my ark
And I'd be set on fire by your spark.
Where did you come from with that pretty face,
To bring me stars and thrills with your embrace?
You didn't realize you were beguiled,
I barely thought you could have been my child.
The crazy love, with its ironic smile
Two strangers brings together for a while,
And makes their age seem equal on the spot
O, slender woman, passionate and hot.
You're young, and haughty, and extremely fair,
You want me badly and you do not care
That both your folks and mine will lose their peace
And sacrifice them all to your caprice.
You wanted to get out of your white lace
And in my heart my verses to replace.
Intoxicated by the love's sweet charms
You wanted to stay always in my arms,

[...] Read more

poem by Tudor Arghezi, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Added by anonym
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