Apr 15, 2010
Woman's inscription (Inscriptie de femeie) by Tudor Arghezi
0 comentarii Publicat de Pure Wish la 4/15/2010 09:02:00 PM
The disposal of the character ordained to be
The ethereal girl, the man's wife.
The feeble dragonfly, in his hairy hand,
Is like the lily spring and cypress.
She likes him because he's okay and tough- and trump,
He doesn't hesitate, doesn't come late, doesn't ask,
Goes right ahead and reaches straight right,
He's loud and wise.
His endeavor and hard work for you
Make your days bigger and fuller.
His knees have crushed and his back has broken,
To deserve both his tasty dish and kiss.
From the bottom of the sea he pulls pearls in strings
For the neck of his slender and beautiful maiden.
From the night he takes bunches of stars and sparks
For bracelets, brooches, rings and earrings,
The golden stars from dry stones he gets,
Bitten by the rock's fangs and bleeding from his elbows.
It's his self sacrifice, brightened by an idea.
The idea, like fight and passion is still a woman.
They are all yours and all are for you.
Why not, then for who?
Because all the gifts for you are being brought,
Receiving a flowers instead, your fragile smile.
The creature of a petal and of a drop of dew,
Give it every morning a new joy,
Rewarding offer is his poem,
Another one sweeter and more honest, there isn't.
The ethereal girl, the man's wife.
The feeble dragonfly, in his hairy hand,
Is like the lily spring and cypress.
She likes him because he's okay and tough- and trump,
He doesn't hesitate, doesn't come late, doesn't ask,
Goes right ahead and reaches straight right,
He's loud and wise.
His endeavor and hard work for you
Make your days bigger and fuller.
His knees have crushed and his back has broken,
To deserve both his tasty dish and kiss.
From the bottom of the sea he pulls pearls in strings
For the neck of his slender and beautiful maiden.
From the night he takes bunches of stars and sparks
For bracelets, brooches, rings and earrings,
The golden stars from dry stones he gets,
Bitten by the rock's fangs and bleeding from his elbows.
It's his self sacrifice, brightened by an idea.
The idea, like fight and passion is still a woman.
They are all yours and all are for you.
Why not, then for who?
Because all the gifts for you are being brought,
Receiving a flowers instead, your fragile smile.
The creature of a petal and of a drop of dew,
Give it every morning a new joy,
Rewarding offer is his poem,
Another one sweeter and more honest, there isn't.
broken roses
;;
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