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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=589732" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Mother [Mama]</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Flows down the water of the spring,<br>The roar is all prevailing, <br>And in the evening poplars sing<br>The everlasting wailing.<br>The braided paths, narrow and bare,<br>Towards the mill are going<br>I see you, mother, you are there<br>Your shack is slightly glowing! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">You spin. The fire's burning pale<br>And in the hearth are dying<br>Three splinters broken from the rail<br>And their flame is sighing. <br>From time to time, it rises bright,<br>Then falls, worn-out by labour,<br>Blending the shadows with the light<br>At corners, in the chamber.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Two girls are sitting next to you <br>And spin – the work is numbing;<br>They have no father, it is true,<br>And George, he is not coming. <br>A tale with dragons and with birds<br>A girl begins recalling<br>You listen carefully her words<br>And then your thoughts are rolling. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The thread breaks often, you are tense,<br>And look a bit despairing <br>You mutter words, which have no sense, <br>And somewhere out you're staring. <br>You drop the spindle, but don't speak,<br>By threads you are surrounded, <br>To lift it up you do not seek,<br>The two girls are astounded. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O, no! There is no doubt at all!<br>You jump, you've heard a clatter,<br>You look outside and wait a call,<br>A girl says: "What's the matter?"<br>"It's nothing... Maybe just a bird",<br>You give an explanation,<br>But every uttered gentle word<br>Is wail and lamentation. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">After a moment, looking down,<br>Your voice, which now is stronger,<br>Says: "I shall die", and then you frown,<br>"I am not me any longer..."<br>What was I thinking? It's insane,<br>Your brother to be coming,<br>I thought I've heard him at the pane<br>How knocks and how is humming. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It wasn't him!... But if he came,<br>My life would be extended,<br>Yet he's away, I cannot claim<br>To meet, my life has ended. <br>And maybe God thus has some fun<br>Or fate, has left me crying,<br>Because I cannot see my son<br>And soon I shall be dying!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Outside is windy, clouds appear <br>It's dark until tomorrow,<br>The girls are sleeping, they don't fear – <br>But you are full of sorrow,<br>And near the hearth you sit and cry:<br>He's gone, I love him dearly,<br>And then you close your weary eye<br>In dreams to see me clearly!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=George+Co%C5%9Fbuc">George Coşbuc</a>, translated by Octavian Cocoş<div class=q>
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