ROMANIA

 

Over here the name himself of this

country panting, forcing herself to defecate

hurts your soul the bellicose arrogance

of those who populate her, of the guests

and of the citizens of a different chosen race  

hurts you too. As if from underground is

audible the weeping of the rascals,

of the petty thieves the wailing

of the slandered women beaten

to death: the love of the Devil is burning

inside the women, only the wind knows

the bitterness of this damned region

that still doesn’t let any bud of love arise

in the soul. Look, ye bandits everything

drowns in the mud, howls a Gyppo manele songster.