So much stillness me surrounding I clearly seem to hear
them late-night moonbeams crushing now against my windows.

My chest’s
too strange a voice just woken up
and sings a song in me a will
mine not at all.

They say that all the ancestors who died
agelessly by chance,
dead veins young blooded still their own,
too great desires in blood their own,
still living sun in their desires,
come,
they always come to further live
in us
their merely unlived life.

So much stillness me surrounding I clearly seem to hear
them late-night moonbeams crushing now against my windows.

O, who knows – soul mine, whose chest shall lodge the echo singing
song yours in centuries to come
on strings of stillness still so sweet,
on darkness so the same a harp – the strangled will
and joy of life too broken still? who knows?
who knows?


(Adapted translation by Axel H. Lenn - after "Liniste", vol. POEMELE LUMINII, 1919, by Lucian Blaga)