Your soul, with all its mornings merging into it,
the mornings with no fog or rain,
was dancing around love, awaiting its embrace,
Love has made half a gesture only
the other half – you got it back
just like a boomerang that did not miss its target
You walk, your hand pressing your breast
from fear your heart will bounce out
as after a knife-blow;
some day, however, a bird sat on your shoulder
will tell you: I’m your soul,
hold out both hands so you can catch me.
And − be brave!

translated from Romanian by Roxana Alexandrescu, [email protected]