Only my life will die for me for good,
someday.
Only grass knows the taste of the earth.
Only my blood is missing my heart
for good, when it deserts it.
The air is high, you are tall,
my sadness takes a high toll.
There comes a time when horses die.
There comes a time when cars get old.
There comes a time when it rains cold
and all women wear your head
and your dresses.
A big white bird's coming, too.
Translator: Vasile Andreica
see more poems written by: Nichita Stănescu
