I was holding an old crane on my shoulder.
Let me caress your wings, I told it,
You have the power to expect us, singing
Without fear of echoes and people.
Big tears in its eyes began to
Fall. I am a man, it said, I am…
And I heard nothing but fatigue flying,
Night’s cry, away.
Iosif Caraiman, Cocorul
translated from Romanian by Marcel Rus