I glimpsed light on the earth,
and I got born to see
how you were doing.
Healthy? Hefty?
How’s happiness going?
Thank you, don't answer me.
I don't have time for answers,
I barely have time to ask my questions.
But I like it here.
It's warm, it's beautiful,
and there’s so much light that
the grass grows.
And that girl, behold,
looks at me with her soul...
No, honey, do not bother loving me.
A black coffee I'll have, though,
from your hand.
I love that you know how
to make it bitter.
Translator: Vasile Andreica
see more poems written by: Marin Sorescu
