sweet stuccoed facades whisper to one another
under labyrinths of branches

the linden trees sway their ripe scent
in the chiaroscuro of streetlets
at high noon 

this hushed secret charm of Bucharest in summer
when the sun melts above drowsy roofs
past cool dark seductive interiors

Europe almost Orient

gypsy girls have suddenly flooded the streets
having come from afar
from their dance in the fields at dawn

they bring fresh garlands and wreaths
they sell armfuls of sunny wild Midsummer flowers
at timeless crossroads
under the blink of traffic lights