Blue · Wide

Stranger

Stranger I am.
A thought among the alders,
a valley clothed all in snow-drifts.

Like a deep longing, like a blue dreamer,
the son of a king sent off by the stars.

Stranger I am,
a chaffinch among thorns,
a lowland village scattered by the time.

A lightning-arch, so very long and reeling,
an ancient altar, overrun by grass.

Stranger I am,
if I were to be home,
what name would carry that soft-hearted land?

Always ascending I grew mute believing
that maybe among strangers is my land.

Potterers are the two of us,
you and I both loving
only the peace asleep in mysteries.

Romanian version

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