Sweet, melodious there’s no other
like my language in this world,
From the lips of my grandmother,
every word is shining pearled.

It is born straight from the Light,
Sunrise over the Black Sea,
Just to hear it it’s a delight,
Oh, how great’s my love for thee!

My Romanian language, a treasure
Safely kept inside my soul,
Then released with grace and leisure,
Golden words that made me whole.

You can hear it in the leaves,
when you walk with Eminescu,
In the secret of the breeze,
Trying lovely to impress you.

It is there in melodies,
In the waves of the Danube
In Enescu’s rhapsodies
I can hear it, so can you.

It is there in poetry,
Written in book after book,
Our language molded me,
Blaga, Goga, and Cosbuc.

If you carefully listen,
If you have the time and patience,
I am sure you too can hear it,
At “The Table of Silence”

At “The Endless Column”
With Brancusi dreaming along
Our language so solemn
Like an old, enchanted gong.

In the mountains and the valleys,
In the rivers in the springs,
In the meadows and green alleys,
Unseen angels, touching strings.

Is the language of the songs,
Shepherds playing for their sheep,
Is a sound where love belongs,
Mama’s singing you to sleep.