Poetry is a lost artform on me. The only time I ever feel even slightly impressed by it is when the meter runs perfectly and the endings rhyme. Then I consider it creativity. Otherwise, I cannot stand it.

Radio (and many others who know me) might suggest that I lack a certain … emotion and so can’t invest myself in it.

This post, however, is about poetry. It’s in Moldovan and was written by Mihai Eminescu. (Actually, I should say Romanian, since they’re the same language and Moldova came into being as an independent country a century after his death.)

Here’s the poem as he wrote it: (more…)