Ian Kostra

TRECEA O FEMEIE PRIN MAI

Trecea o femeie cu mers plutitor în lumină,
Şi era linişte-naintea ploii.
Cînd noru-a stropit frunzişul castanilor,
N-a putut stinge-nfloritele torţe.

Apoi vîntul atinse colinele dulci
Ale coapselor ei, unduindu-i veşmîntul.
N-a izbutit s-alunge albinele,
Roi, lîngă mierea coloanei de flori.


Trecea o femeie prin mai, şalul ei straveziu,
Sub adiere, rămase nesfarşit şi albastru.
Poetul, rătăcitor pe pămînt,
Îşi îngropă fruntea în faldul cel moale.



A WOMAN WAS PASSING ON MAY

A woman was passing floating in the light,
And it was the silence before raining.
When the cloud sprinkled the chestnut leafage,
It can't put out the blooming torches.

Then the wind riched the sweet hills
Of her haunches, waving her dress.
It didn't succed to sand away the bees,
Swarm, near the honey of the flower column.

A woman was passing on may, her transparent shawl,
Under the breath, remained infinite and blue.
The poet, wanderer on the earth,
Buried his forehead in the soft fold.