.
.
I was a child. I remember, I used to pick
once, wild roses.
They has so many thorns,
but I didn’t wanted to break them.
I thought they were - buds,
and they are going to bloom.
.
I met you, then. Oh, how many,
how many thorns you had!
but I didn’t wanted to undress you -
I thought they will bloom.
.
Today, everything passes
in front of my eyes and I smile.
I smile and I wander through valleys
Playful, in the blowing of the wind.
I was a child.
.
~ Lucian Blaga
.
