Long Romanian Poems
Long Romanian Poems. Below are the most popular long Romanian by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Romanian poems by poem length and keyword.
They say
?There are a million ways?
To say I love you
In this day and age?
I could only find
?In my computer’s brain?
The words
to say I love you?
In 53 languages
of the 10,000 languages
?Spoken on this planet
Someday I may be able
?To say the simple words
?I love you?
In all know languages?
This will have to suffice for a start
So I will say it
?Loud, and clear?
Just so you understand:
I love you (English)
Mein tumse pyar karta hoon (Hindi)
?Tu Tane prem karoo chu (Gujarati)
?Ame tomake bhalo bashe (Bengali)
?Me tula premkarto (Marati)?
Hum apse mohabbat karte hain (Urdu
?Mein thoda prem karanga (Punjabi)
?Man Dooset Daram
(Persian)
?Ana Ahabik Yanooni (Arabic)
?Havala (Hebrew)
Yongchon(Chinese)
?Aloha (Hawaian)
?Cinta(Indonesian)
?Dangshinun sarang hayo (Korean)?
Ajo (Japanese)
?Kasih (Malay)
?Phom tirak khun krap (Thai)?
Akoay Paginghe ikou (Tagalog)
?Toi yeu ong(Vietnamese)
Renmen (Creole)
?Jesuis L’amour voies(French)
?Liefdle (Flemish)
?Estoy amor tu (Spanish)?
Yosono amore tu (Italian)
?Estou o amore tu (Portugese)
Dashuri (Albanian)
?Maiteizam (Basque)?
OBHYAM (Bulgarian)
?Ljubav (Croatian)
?Laska (Czech)
?Jeger en kaerlighed du (Danish)
?Ikben houden van jig (Dutch)
?Gra (Gaelic)
?Ich bin lieben tu (German)
?Agape/eros (Greek)
?Ami (Esperanto)?
Armastama (Estonian)
?Rakam (Finish)
?Envagyok szeretet te (Hungarian)
?Elska (Icelandic)
?Ejekirin (Kurdish)
?Milestiba (Latvian)
?Meile (Lithuanian)
?Eu dragoste tu (Romanian)
?JHOBOEL Lubush (Russian)
?Elske (Norweigan)
?Easka (Slovak)?
JBYBAB (Serbian)?
Jagdan karlek du (Swedish)
?KOYATH (Ukraine)
?Benin sevi sen (Turkish)?
Ahava (Yiddish)
Ngingu u thando ungu (Zulu)
Agent Patrick Chaves
in the beginning of this month, I was contacted by
family relation telling me of a quick way to make
some extra money by investing in gift cards and he
connected me to agent Patrick Chaves
I sent the cards, but when the promised payout didn't
happen there was demand for more card before
they could send me the profit; this happened several
times until I sopped sending more cards and accepted
my loss of over 4000euro
It didn't end there, the agent Patrick Chaves persistent
asked for more gift cards which I refused to pay
He sent me his ID card issued in California showing
a photo of an white bearded, elderly man born in 1949
I have tried to sent his photo to X but not sure how to
do this.
When I told the agent Patrick Chaves I would sent
the article to X he threatened to sue me, which made
me more suspicious as this what happened to me was
elaborate that has happened to many
In the world of the Internet everything is based on lies
When i trough third party contacted my relative
he knew nothing about the case, someone had taken
his name pretending he was the relative
As for agent Patrick Chaves, the one, I have been dealing
with is is a fake to His English is not up to standard
nor is mine, but detected a foreign voice that is possible
Romanian which refuses tells me he lives in Portugal
The only Portuguese with that name is retired footballer
who is also a businessman, I will not suggest he has
anything to do with this scam; having accepted my lose
I will continue to find who is behind the fraud
...Hoender - Afrikaans, Pulë - Albanian, ???? - Arabic, ?????? - Belarusian, ???? - Bulgarian,
Pollastre - Catalan, ? - Chinese (Simplified), ? - Chinese (Traditional), Piletina - Croatian,
Kurecí - Czech, Kylling - Danish, Kip - Dutch, Kanaliha - Estonian, Manok - Filipino,
Kana - Finnish, Galiña - Galician, ??t?p???? - Greek, ??? - Hebrew, ???? - Hindi, Csirke -
Hungarian, Kjúklingur - Icelandic, Ayam - Indonesian, Sicín - Irish, ?? - Japanese,
??? - Korean, Calis - Latvian, Vištiena - Lithuanian, ??????? - Macedonian,
Ayam - Malay, Kylling - Norwegian, ???? - Persian, Kurczak - Polish, Pui - Romanian,
?????? - Russian, ???????? - Serbian, Kuracie - Slovak, Kuku - Swahili, Kyckling - Swedish,
??? - Thai, Tavuk - Turkish, ????? - Ukrainian, Gà - Vietnamese, Cyw Iâr - Welsh,
????? - Yiddish, Huhn - German, Frango - Portuguese, Poulet - French, Pollo - Italian,
Pollo - Spanish, Chicken - Maltese, Chicken - Slovenian, Chicken - English.,...-=.....-=..-=..-
=..............-=...-=....-=....-=...-=.............-=...-,...-=.....-=..-=..-=..............-=...-=....-
=....-=...-=.............-=...-,...-=.....-=..-=..-=..............-=...-=....-=....-=...-=.............-
=...-,...-=.....-=..-=..-=..............-=...-=....-=....-=...-=.............-=...-,...-=.....-=..-=..-
=......HA! HA! HA!...for old times sake...lol...Your Kidster, Your Majesty.
Form:
I hope my car starts tomorrow,
That I can leave my street Charles de Foucault,
That I can go write a poem, or almost,
I love walking an hour in the fresh countryside.
I hope that I can cross the bridge, the harbor,
To buy milk, port and natural fruits,
That I can leave my city for a few hours,
I love to think of you, in the silence of the countryside.
I hope my car starts tomorrow,
That I can go to the cinema to see a Romanian film,
That I can go flower Mom’s grave,
You see, I’m nothing without my car.
Pourvu que ma voiture démarre demain,
Que je puisse quitter ma rue Charles de Foucauld,
Que je puisse aller écrire un poème, ou presque
J’aime marcher une heure dans la fraiche campagne.
Que je puisse aller traverser le pont, la rade,
Pour acheter du lait, du porto et des fruits naturels,
Que je puisse quitter ma ville quelques heures,
j’aime penser à toi, dans le silence de la campagne.
Pourvu que ma voiture démarre demain,
Que je puisse aller au cinéma voir un film roumain,
Que je puisse aller fleurir la tombe de maman,
Voyez-vous, je ne suis rien sans ma voiture.
Marija was blatantly alluring which is what attracted him in the first place.
Her name was not exotic, but her attitude was.
Her whimsical manners and masterful life steps were a joy to watch.
There was a quirkiness about her that drew all of us in, even the women.
She was a Romanian gypsy queen who danced with scarves
And sparkled with silver shimmering spangles.
Mesmerized, we watched her from every corner of the room.
Who is she? My uncle Jim wanted to know, asking everyone.
I knew then that his carousing days were over.
She was masterful, I will give her that.
A free standing, freewheeling, free spirit of a woman.
Sensual, sexual, and seriously seductive.
My uncle had been a lone wolf for nigh onto thirty years.
We watched him that night, seeing the tremendous effect Marija had over him.
Indicative of the effect she would have on him for the rest of his life actually.
Maples were first at letting down their leaves they always go first actually.
Sycamore and oak were a day later; both let them go satisfactorily.
Their crispy waiting autumn leaves had been ripe for more than a little while,
But if they did not let maple go first, there would be a frown, not a smile.
Colorful eager leaves cascaded, sprinkled, floated, twisted, danced, and swirled.
They were like exotic Romanian scarf dancers with bound legs unfurled.
The pumpkins and squash sat rolling their jealous uncaring eyes.
They were always in perpetual grumpy moods. No big surprise!
A spider began making her way toward the barn gate.
The knowing farmer tried to stop her, but he was too late.
Her intricate web was already up, as fancy as any lace cloth.
A delicate piece of pure danger for any insect she caught.
From the house wafted delicious pumpkin spice and cinnamon smells
Perky pink nose from leaf pile turned west as by magic spells.
Vole friend warned the mouse, I would not go in there. No way.
The cat had an early lunch, and the mouse learned the hard way.
Written 9-9-2020
Contest Autumn Fall Rhyme Challenge
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
You Were My Death
by Paul Celan
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You were my death;
I could hold you
when everything abandoned me—
even breath.
Paul Celan (1920-1970) was a Romanian Jew who wrote poems in German. He survived the Holocaust, despite the loss of his mother and father, to become one of the major German-language poets of the post–World War II era. His parents' deaths and the horrors of the Holocaust have been called the "defining forces" in Celan's poetry.
Keywords/Tags: Paul Celan, Holocaust poems, Holocaust poetry, Shoah, German, translation, death, breath, abandoned, abandonment, absence, hold, holding, Germany, racism, antisemitism, injustice, brutality, genocide, ethnic cleansing, horror, abuse, murder, war, World War II, world conflicts
Calligraphy in the Air for a Fleeting Muse
Each morning I try to capture in the net of my metaphors the dance of your steps through the corridors of memory,
But the words melt like ice butterflies in the palm of a child who wanted to keep winter forever,
While you continue to exist beyond the edges of the paper, more alive than any verse could encompass.
Your laughter is a silver seagull playing among my thoughts like among the sea waves at dusk,
And I try to catch it in the web of stanzas, but it always escapes, leaving behind only echoes and shining feathers,
Which turn into stardust when I try to stick them to the page with the tears of my helpless inspiration.
How to describe in measured syllables the way your gaze makes light stop and dance,
As if the universe itself holds its breath when your eyes reflect constellations unknown to astronauts,
And I remain here, with a worn dictionary in hand, searching for words for colors the Romanian language hasn't yet dreamed of.
You are like a living poem writing itself on the sky of my heart with letters of fire and dew,
While I, a mere scribe of the impossible, attempt to translate into black ink
The multicolored symphony of your presence that makes the air vibrate like an Aeolian harp in the hands of the wind.
Every verse I write is just a pale shadow of how you complete
The gaps in all the world's unfinished love songs,
Like a secret musical key transforming the noise of existence into the purest melody.
Perhaps your beauty is not meant to be captured in the cage of my unworthy stanzas,
But to fly free through the memories of those who have met you, like a hummingbird feeding on the wonder in their eyes,
While I remain here, between blank pages, trying to paint infinity with the finite alphabet of mortals.
O, Little Root of a Dream
by Paul Celan
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
O, little root of a dream
you enmire me here;
I’m undermined by blood?
made invisible,
death's possession.
Touch the curve of my face,
that there may yet be an earthly language of ardor,
that someone else’s eyes
may somehow still see me,
though I’m blind,
here where you
deny me voice.
Paul Celan (1920-1970) was a Romanian Jew who wrote poems in German. He survived the Holocaust, despite the loss of his mother and father, to become one of the major German-language poets of the post–World War II era. His parents' deaths and the horrors of the Holocaust have been called the "defining forces" in Celan's poetry.
Keywords/Tags: Paul Celan, Holocaust poems, Holocaust poetry, Shoah, German, translation, root, dream, blood, death, face, eyes, blind, sight, seeing, vision, words, voice, voiceless, silent, silenced, ardor, love, passion, desire, Germany, abandoned, race, racism, antisemitism, injustice, brutality, genocide, ethnic cleansing, World War II, world conflicts
There was a builder named Manole
-a genius in his craft-
His reputation reached a knight
who hired him at once
to build a stunning monastery
on the Romanian land...
Whenever builder named Manole
was finishing his task
An evil rain demolished walls
with envy in its drops
and yet again brick onto brick
he built his reputation - thick
So on a stormy day wife of Manole
Was sacrificed as she reached his site
With bricks and tears and tears and bricks
He sealed the wall - as pillar ... she with child -
While selfish knight heard builders on the roof:
"Next time a greater church we'll plan"
Demonic knight removed the ladders
and let them stranded so they would die
Manole said:"Let's build tough wings of shingles"
And one by one they tried to fly
As deadly force attracted to their Fate...
Since then the breeze is crying loud...with child...
for Carolyn and John's Contest "Legends"