Winter in the sky
Winter rose in the sky
north wind shook
the tinsel of stars
from the porch of the Milky Way
and with a silver tinkling,
crivetz gathered the snow
from the shooting stars.
It is snowing with great snow flakes
over my heart star,
over the faded times' charm,
lonely snow eddy,
leaden twilight spreads
over cool crystal sparkles.
poem by Valentin Gabriel Cristea
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Winter is getting on for the end
Grey snow,
flooded by the rays of sun,
thaws slowly,
in the rhythm of the spring birds music,
letting the earth
without its counterpane.
A snowdropp ventures
to raise its shoulders
over the little snow
that remained.
A snowdropp penetrates hardly
through the snow
that allows the snowdrop
to get a place,
and that bows
before a prince of spring.
From now on, winter
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poem by Valentin Gabriel Cristea
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The house of hope
It’s getting fog over the our thoughts
shiver of dream whispers me secretly
the light spreads gingerly on branches
bunch of wings dashes in the air.
Circle blue colours in the sky
float through clouds, be lost in the distances
it’s the house of hope that calls tenderly
with large mantle, with wonderful face.
Return to the house from the distances
hope assembles in the house with fir trees
love rises through the chimney of smoke,
undulates courteously in waves.
poem by Valentin Gabriel Cristea
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Pale Moon
Moon sings and sighs
narrating her past,
autumnal cloud spreads
over our happiness.
Lofty forest is going to cry
when the ray of the moon whispers
„ What did it happen with the moon? „
that the moon is sad and does not smile.
The ray of the moon warmed up
all is moving in this forest
that any animal is asking
how to be helped
proud moon in the sky.
I feel the ray of the moon
in my palm.
I carres and spoil her
then the moon smiles me
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poem by Valentin Gabriel Cristea
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The house from the mountain
Foot of region has grown up by the house
it’s the mountain that watches with strength the house
a summit with fir trees waits for dreaminess
from the happy house penetrates light.
Shiver of springs flows near the house
secret wave guides me to the door
that opens silently to my mirthful steps
the cowered hope stretches sleepily in bed.
Numbed in the morning second
I get drowned in drops of light
a high rumble, that increases lonely
gathers me in its breast, as the world that lies.
poem by Valentin Gabriel Cristea
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Happy Winter
The clouds sift the flour over the plain,
children play with it,
they knead some snowmen.
People look wonderfully at these snowmen
that are so cold and live for only three months.
Children are very happy with them
for only three months.
When the wind is blowing
and it is very cold,
only the snowmen are playing with each other,
talking to each other, thinking about children
and waiting for children.
Nobody knows that
the snowmen are looking for
our happiness
and they need hearts
as them to understand
how short it is happiness.
Children know that happiness
has been for only three months
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poem by Valentin Gabriel Cristea
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Witty’s fight against the wind
It has been spoken that Witty, a boy from the village
it has been waggish, he has grieved everybody, it has seemed,
and everybody has envied him.
birds have only pecked from his palm
because they have become inured to him.
A slow wind has breathed over the village
and Witty has been amazed from it,
when the wind intensifies, the wind has blown out his hat.
he has followed vainly his hat with the look
but the hat has disappeared entirely.
The wind has blown then with force
to take houses and palings
and to destroy almost everything.
All the people have run cowardly
Witty has only coped with the wind because he has been a care-crow.
poem by Valentin Gabriel Cristea
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Along the river
Water bends, rolls down
to fiind a place to banks,
waves break by stones
and curl up around them,
yellow poplars,
that watch the river, tremble,
drooping willows wash their locks
in hesitating water.
I remember how I was fishing
under shaded banks
with my friends.
Fishes were avoiding my fishing rod
and were inviting me to the competition with them.
From the river that winds tremblingly,
I hear melancholic verse of the natives
gone to the fishing with the boat.I have felt asleep.
It has seemed to me that a beautiful gondola with a miraculous fairy
has crossed the river.
I was charmed by the beauty of the fairy
that has glittered on the lustre of the water.
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poem by Valentin Gabriel Cristea
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