Ballad of the Chatterbox Coquette
by Horia Badescu – translation by Daniel Ionita
It was sometime in April, I remember
Perhaps in nineteen seventy and… what,
My soul was full of bones like crimson ember;
Buried in fear and boredom, and all that.
And at the Mongol’s inn, in shadow’s beauty
With good old wines, and scents and no regret,
There came a time I had to pay my duty
Of love towards that chatterbox Coquette.
beneath the sunset of her eyebrows parting
I started my first worship to progress,
from which her mouth would lazily be starting
The nightly bud of passion to undress.
She carried in her eyes a sad carnation
Which lingered on the seconds passing by,
And called on it my fall into temptation
With teary fingers full love, and shy.