Poezii

George Cosbuc The poet A soul in the soul of my people am I And sing of its sorrows and joys, For mine are your wounds and I cry Whenever you do, drinking dry That chalice of poison that's meant for Fate's toys. Whatever your pathway, together we'll ail, We'll bear the same cross and we'll feel the same nail; Your banner and creed will be mine; The shrine of my hopes I shan't fail To set by the side your shrine. A heart of my people's great heart; I sing of its love and its hate; The part that you play is the fire's; my part Is that of the wind; you're mate In all that's decided by Fate. You're the source and the aim of whatever I sing And if at times say a thing That's not in your Scriptures, you can, Most holy celestial King, Lock up with a lightning the mouth of a man. Some people hold dear and supreme What's vain in the other men's eye; But he who can scan both the earth and the sky And set up a bridge 'tween the low and the high, Will always distinguish "to be" from "to seem". My heart is all yours and your heart is in me Whatever your place on the chart Of forth-coming ages, whatever they decree, For you, mine own people, of your soul I will be For ever and ever a part. Poetry page