Lacustrine

So many nights I hear raining,

And listen to the matter crying…

I’m alone and think

About lake houses are to sink.

 

It seems I sleep on wet wood,

A wave hit me and  understood,

 Moving in sleep and drifting more,

That I didn’t pull deck off the shore.

 

It stretches a historic hole,

At same time I play a role…

And feel like from so much rain

All my efforts are in vain.

 

So many nights I hear raining,

Still moving, still waiting…

I’m alone and think

About lake houses are to sink.

George Bacovia, Lacustră

published in Viata noua in 1900

translated from Romanian by Marcel Rus

 

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