The Word / Cuvantul Poem by Magdalena Biela

Oh, a word is a gem, or a stone, or a song,
Or a flame, or a two-edged sword;
Or a rose in bloom, or a sweet perfume,
Or a drop of gall is a word.

You may choose your word like a connoisseur,
And polish it up with art,
But the word that sways, and stirs, and stays,
Is the word that comes from the heart.

You may work on your word a thousand weeks,
But it will not glow like one
That all unsought, leaps forth white hot,
When the fountains of feeling run.


Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Cuvantul


O, cuvantu-i o gema, o piatra, un cantec,
o flama, o spada cu dubla taiere;
o roza-nflorita, ori un dulce parfum,
ori o picatura de fiere.

Poti alege cuvantu-ti ca un connnoisseur,
si cu arta lustruieste-ti-l bine,
dar cuvantul ce misca, freamata, ramâne,
este cel ce din inima vine.


Poti lucra cuvantu-ti mii de saptamani,
nu va straluci ca acel
care necautat, rasare alb si cald,
candsentimentele curg rebel.