I look down upon you, my city, Cluj, the scene of my romances.
Behind the cinema screens the scene of dreams lurk,
the ever-changing colors of Titanic, promising it might get better
or even worse, and after a few scenes missing
a cigarette is lit, your lady is laid, or just a woman is paid,
or a wine, as the witnessing city watches it wearily,
abandoning the youth who crave to exist within it.
And they, whether by choice or instinct, make distinct
of all that is self-evident in the here and now,
only later to admit their mistakes and bow as if nothing ever
happened.
I look down upon you, my city, Cluj, the scene of my romances.
Who is the I who will also move on, who once lived here,
whom you, in some way, reshaped and called dear
on my walks from Mănăștur to Mărăști, a partial result
sometimes noticed, sometimes not,
sometimes I am Gábor István Ördög, and I awaken at the place
I got,
my city, the scene of my romances, Cluj.
Libros Libertad 