forwards

sometimes
you walk alone
your soul is hollow
your light is low

sometimes
you meet a man
who lends a hand
and lights a spark

the world lights up
your fire's kindled
the wind is strong
and lifts your life

it's but a dance
and please remember
at times to pay your debts
forwards

What is it which gets old within us (2)

What is it which gets old within us

by Lucian Blaga

(in my imperfect translation)

What is it which gets old within us,

that unexpectedly makes us rise one morning

With the desire to hide

Name and face?

What is it which gets old within us,

that when we reach the twilight

makes us find out that we belong to the past,

estranged from contemporaries, fog's shadows?

It surely cannot be the pulsating blood

nor the beating heart, the passion, or spirit,

nor the echoes reverberating in our ears,

but only the tear

for old men cry old tears

i have learned a new language

i have learned a new language
so that i could understand
the words of your songs;
so please sing them to me now
while i can still hear
the trill

What is it which gets old within us

by Lucian Blaga (in my imperfect translation)

What is it which gets old within us,
that unexpectedly makes us rise one morning
With the desire to hide
Name and face?

What is it which gets old within us,
that when we reach the twilight
makes us find out that we belong to the past,
foreigners among today, shadows in the fog?

It surely cannot be the pulsating blood
nor the beating heart, the passion, or spirit,
nor the echoes reverberating in our ears,
but only the tear
for old men cry old tears