In vain [În zadar]

I watch the moon, but it's in vain,
And in my sorrow, so insane,
I'm sighing for I want him still;
But he is gone – moon needs to rest
And with its ray, sweet, bright and blessed,
Is setting now behind the hill.

poem by Veronica Micle, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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