W.B. YEATS

The Song of Wandering Aengus (1899)

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire aflame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

Serban Dragos Ionescu

W.B. YEATS

Cantul Ratacitorului Aengus

M-am dus in codrul de alun
Cu o vapaie mintea-mi mistuind
Si-am rupt si-am decojit un bat de-alun,
Si-am agatat o fraga de-un fir lung;
Si-apoi, cand molii albe-n zbor erau,
Si stele-n cer ca molii se stingeau,
Am aruncat fraga intr-un parau
Si-am prins un pastrav argintiu

Cand l-asezasem jos, usor
M-am dus s-atat focul in jar
Dar se-auzi ceva fosnind usor
Si cineva-mi spuse pe nume
Se transformase-ntr-o scanteietoare fata
Cu flori de mar in par.
Ce ma striga pe nume, si fugind
Se mistui-n lumina diminetii

Desi-am imbatranit, tot ratacind
Prin tari pustii si tari cu dealuri line
Unde s-a dus 'ntr-o zi, tot voi afla-o
Si buzele-i voi saruta si-i lua-voi mana;
Si-om merge prin iarba inalta si vargata
Si-om aduna pana ce timp si timpuri s-or fi scurs
Merele de-argint ale lunii,
Merele de-aur ale soarelui.