To A Departing Mistress

You call it true love, and believe t'was so…I call it a brief lapse of sanity…Yet what it was,What it was meant to be, The two of us, perhaps, will never know. It was a dream we lived upon a shore,A sad song brought to us from distant landsBy some white birds that spread their wings to soarAcross the rebel blue of other sands.A sad song brought by sailors from afar,From Boston, Norfolk, New YorkAndQuebec,A sad song sung by fishermen who areGoing to sea, and nevermore come back.And the refrain it was of triolets,Penned by a poet from the North of yoreOn the white edge of his indented shore,To beg the love of passing blonde coquettes. It was a dream,A verse,A melodyWe never sang, perhaps, long time ago… You call it true love? And believe t'was so?I call it a brief lapse of sanity!

by Ion Minulescu (1881-1944)