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■ The oak
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-10-22 | | Submited by Constantin Enianu The years have flown like long clouds over plains, And once they left me, they return no more, Nor will they charm me, as they did before, The tales, songs, riddles of old lore again. Which once the child’s heart cured of its worst sore, Deep sense, grasped by the soul and not the brain; Your shade encircles me today in vain, O sunset, parting-kiss and mystery’s core ! To wrest but one low sound of my past life, To make my soul feel shivers as of old, I touch the lyre-cords but in idle strife. All things are lost in distant haze of youth, Dumb the sweet mouth of other days for good, Around me Time has risen – Darkness cold ! Translated by Alfred Margul-Sperber
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