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Sparkling haze, across the heavens
Rising slow the sliver moon,
She has gathered from the water
And upon the pastures strewn.


In the valley many flowers
On the cobwebs jewels strung,
Countless gems, of countless colours,
On the cloak of evening hung.


O'er the lake the clouds in passing
Cast a soft transparent shade,
Which the ripples rolling boulders
With their radiance invade.


Came at night a little maiden
Silently the reeds among,
And a rose of flaming scarlet
On the water surface flung.

For her own sweet image gazing,
Marvelled how the ripples stirred...
Aye, that lake is long enchanted
By the saint Wednesday’s word.


Flung a rose of flaming scarlet
That the water's mirror blurred...
Scarlet roses are enchanted
By the saint Friday's word.


Long she gazes. Hair soft golden,
O'er her face the moon's pale light,
While within her eyes of violet
All times fairy-tales unite.




(Translated by Corneliu M. Popescu)


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