My free translation after Mihai Eminescu –Glossa The horizon stretched boundless in front of her – a décor of shape and color, oscillating in a slow but permanent transformation under the calm, indulgent blue of a clear sky. As the car moved through the smoky background of the mountains, the road became more and more sinuous, the curves tighter and more frequent. In the four hours of her journey, the June landscape gradually changed; with the increasing altitude, the green, smooth vastness of plain – punctuated by the intense yellow of a few sunflower islands – gave way to an abundance of mountainous vegetation beyond which wooded ridges filled the view, flirting to the peaks with waves of fog and snow. At that point, a sort of finis mundi, the sky and the misty crests seemed to merge into a primordial entity. Looks like not only Hell, but Paradise also is on Earth, thought Clara, while from the audio system inside the car came the perfectly modulated notes of Alphaville’s Forever Young, conferring a nostalgic vibration to the ambiance.
