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Your face, Mama,
Like a thousand
Wounded nightingales,
Your eyes
In which has transpired
Everything
That can possibly transpire
In this world!
Your tear:
A diamond that cuts in two
The day’s mirror.
Inseparable from heaven
Like water is from the shore,
You dwell in a house
With two windows:
One that opens unto life,
Another facing towards death,
Both are equally clear.
O, Mama,
Open your embrace unto me:
Unto the one
Who awaits you with longing,
And as I draw near to you,
Draw me near to the peace that you are.
Now and forever.

Grigore Vieru