Psalm by Lucian Blaga

Painful your hidden loneliness has always been to me,
but, God, what was I to do?
As a child I used to play with you
and in my mind I used to take you apart like a toy.
Later my wilderness grew,
my songs disappeared,
and without ever having had you too close
I lost you forever,
in the dust, in fire, in air and on the water.

Between the rising of the sun and sunset
I am but dirt and wound.
In the sky you closed yourself, like in a coffin.
Oh, if you were not closer to death
than life,
you would speak to me. From where you are,
from the earth or from myth you would speak.

In the thorns from around here, show yourself, God,
to say what you're expecting of me.
Do you want me to catch in the sky the venomous spear
thrown by another to pierce you under the wing?

Or maybe you don't want anything?
You are a mute and unmovable entity,
(intrinsically round, a is a)
you do not ask for a thing. Not even that I pray.
Look, the stars enter the world
along with my questioning sadness.
Look, it is night without windows outside.
God, what am I to do now?
In your midst I undress. I take off my body
like a coat that you leave on the road.

(Translated from Romanian by Loredana Tiron-Pandit. For more poetry translations, go to my WRITTEN page.)