A rose is extinguished

With the body overwhelmed by sorrow
A rose goes out in a glast,
Splashing his petals
On the window sill ...

The poor bloom is tingling
And dying in her passion moves,
Like in the big girl's heart
An incomprehensible love.

It's up till tomorrow
She shook her full adornment,
And the hand of the gentleman's master
Another rose will gather.

And one by one they are alive
Still other flowers in the old glastra,
Like dreams come true
And I die smiling in our path.

By Octavian Goga