Although the sunrise
is a manly business, there
where the horizon howls
torn away from its colours,
I like to expand it
with a feminine body.
Thus looks my sleeping darling:
her head is just a bowknot
and at her head's crown ending
the morning air begins, and
my heart is knocking on my ribs
like a tamed leopard onto its cage,
for otherwise it would jump
waywardly upwards
and pretty soon would get to be
the first heart on the moon.
Translator: Vasile Andreica
see more poems written by: Nichita Stănescu
