Watercolour

       by Ion Minulescu (1881-1944)

                         translated by Daniel Ionita

"In the city where it’s raining for three days each week unplanned

City dwellers on the walkways,

Wander walking hand in hand.

In the city where  it's raining for three days each week unplanned,

From behind the old umbrellas, which are sighing

And are bending,

Moist with raining without ending,

City dwellers on the walkways

Seem like automated puppets, fallen down from shop displays.

In the city where it's raining, for three days each week unplanned

On the walkways there’s no sound,

Save for the footsteps of those found to be walking hand in hand,

Counting

In their minds

The rhythm of the chilly drops of rain,

From umbrellas now descending,

From the drain pipes,

From the sky

With the power of a dye

Which endows a life that’s slow,

Quite insipid,

Without purpose,

Without flow...

In the city where it’s raining for three days each week unplanned

And old couple looking bland,

Two old toys for long now broken,

Wander, walking hand in hand."