Down where the lonely poplars grow 
How often have I erred; 
My steps that all the neighbours know 
You only have not heard. 

Towards your window lighted through 
How oft my gaze has flown; 
A world entire my secret knew 
You only have not known. 

A word, a murmur of reply 
How often did I pray! 
What matters then if I should die, 
Enough to live that day; 

To know one hour of tenderness, 
One hour of lover's night; 
To hear your whisper's soft caress 
One hour, then come what might! 

Had you but granted me a glance 
That was not filled with scorn, 
Out of its shining radiance 
A new star had been born. 

You would have lived through lives untold 
Beyond the ends of time; 
O deity with arms so cold, 
O marble form sublime! 

An idol of some pagan lore 
As now no more is seen, 
Come down to us from times of yore, 
From times that long have been. 

My worship was of ages gone, 
Sad eyes by faith beguiled, 
Each generation handed on 
From father unto child. 

But now I very little care 
To walk along that lane, 
Nor heed the face I found so fair 
Looks out for me in vain; 

For you are like them all today 
In bearing and in guise, 
And I but look on your display 
With cold and lifeless eyes. 

You should have known to value right 
With wondering intent, 
And lit your "candela" at night 
To Love that God had sent. 

English version by Corneliu M. Popescu

Transcribed by Madalina Pavel
School No. 10, Focsani, Romania
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