It smells like spring and looks like spring, and I am very happy. Yes, I’ll let the poet say it better. Here is my translation of Lucian Blaga’s “Spring.”
To know. To love.
Once more and then again same thing,
to know means winter,
to love is spring.
To love — this comes
from far inside of me.
To love — it comes
from far inside of you.
To know. To love.
Which is your way?
To know — what does it even say?
To love — why the dismay
among the flowers, in the high grass?
Among the flowers, in the high grass
passion is without guilt.
It returns us to infinite
with a murmur and a verve
of reincarnated bees.
Once more and then again same thing,
to love is spring.
Translated from Romanian by Loredana Tiron-Pandit.
You can find more of my poetry translations in WRITTEN.
