the thorns

.

.

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

.