Tuesday, November 18, 2008

The light

by Lucian Blaga

The light I feel
rushing in my chest when I see you,
isn't it a drop of the light
conceived on the first day,
of that light so thirsty of life?

The void sat in agony
when lonely in the dark was floating and gave
a sign The Inscrutable:
"Let there be light!"

A sea
and a whirlwind of light
were made:
a thirst there was of sin, of quest, of yearning, of passion,
a thirst of world and sun.

But where dead is the blinding
light from back then -- who knows?

The light I feel rushing
in my chest when I see you - wonderful,
is maybe as the last drop
of that light conceived on the first day.

----
Romanian original: Lumina

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