Another day in Bucharest

"Din ceas, dedus, adancul acestei calme creste,
Intrata prin oglinda in mantuit azur,
Taind pe inecarea cirezilor agreste,
In grupurile apei, un joc secund, mai pur.

Nadir latent! Poetul ridica insumarea
De harfe resfirate ce-n zbor invers le pierzi
Si cantec istoveste: ascuns, cum numai marea,
Meduzele cand plimba sub clopotele verzi,

- Ion Barbu -

I leave home at seven
Under a heavy sky, I ride my bike up, I ride my bike down

November smoke and your toes go numb
A new colour on the Globe
It goes from white to red, a little voice in my head says oh, oh, oh

I know it, I think I know it from a hymn
They've said so, it doesn't need more explanation
A box to open up with light and sound
And if you don't
You're on your own

Seven - Fever Ray