Down Where The Lonely Poplars Grow

Down where the lonely poplars grow

How often have I erred;

My steps that all the neighbours know

You only have not heard.

Towards your window lighted through

How oft my gaze has flown;

A world entire my secret knew

You only have not known.

A word, a murmur of reply

How often did I pray!

What matters then if I should die,

Enough to live that day;

To know one hour of tenderness,

One hour of lovers' night;

To hear you whisper's soft caress

One hour, then come what might!

Had you but granted me a glance

That was not filles with scorn,

Out of its shinning radiance

A new star hab been born.

You would have lived through lives untold

Beyond the ends of time;

O deity with arms so cold,

O marble form sublime!

An idol of some pagan lore

As now no more is seen,

Come down to us from times yore,

From times that long have been.

My worship was of ages gone,

Sad eyes by faith beguiled,

Each generation handed on

From father unto child.

But now I very little care

To walk along that lane,

Nor heed the face I found so fair

Looks out for me in vain;

For you are like them today

In bearing and in guise,

And I but look on your display

With cold and lifeless eyes.

You should have known to value right

With wondering intent,

And lit your candela at night

To Love that God had sent.

Translated from Romanian by Angela Clark,

University of London, London, UK.

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