In 1916 his first poetry collection appeared — or rather it almost appeared — but the occupying German forces destroyed every copy. In 1918, his volume From the Land of the Wisent was published. He subsequently published other poetry books such as, Poems with Angels (1927), Destiny (1939), and The Last Imagined Sonnets of Shakespeare (1964). Much of his prose and dramatic work was published posthumously.
Voiculescu wrote many poems of the Christian faith, particularly focussing on the events of Christ’s life. He was persecuted by Romania’s communist authorities after WWII because of his beliefs in Christianity and democracy. They first prevented him from publishing, and then in 1958 he was imprisoned. During his incarceration he grew ill; he died of cancer a few months after his release.
The Burden
Lord, I complained my life was hard and grim,
I begged You take it back… You would not heed my plea.
You only said: “Let it not be yours alone—give it to them,
Divide your days with others, as many as there be.”
So off I went to cast away: to some my coat,
To others bread, or sandals, or my daily fare.
I crossed the earth, my years gone by, my soul laid bare,
And still my burden deepened, my secret none would note.
Again I returned, and in sorrow I cried:
“Lord, the weight increases, too heavy to bear!
I’m crushed, I cannot take another stride…”
“You must not give more,” You answered with care.
“Then what must I do?”—“Now, you must receive.”
And so I began: from some I took their teaching,
From others, their sorrow, their wounds to grieve,
I took all they gave me, receiving, not preaching;
Some hurled at me hatred, a curse, or disdain,
Far more gave me tears, despair, and pain.
I shared with so many their wounds, their sighs,
They gifted me torment, their sorrowful cries,
So much torment they gifted, I could barely contain.
Rarely a light from someone, more rarely still peace…
Into the cupped vessel of my soul, they cast
Only turmoil, shame, and their anguish.
Yet, Lord, the gift kept growing, ever more
—a mountain of affliction and grief—
I cannot bring myself to tear it from my heart;
All this I gathered: from them mercy, and from You a thought,
No care for myself, my worries are naught;
To bear it, You gave me so much strength and relief,
That my burden is light as a feather’s part.
This post was suggested by Burl Horniachek.
Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the author of six poetry collections including Angelicus (2021, Poiema/Cascade), plus three anthologies — available through Wipf & Stock. His new book The Role of the Moon, inspired by the Metaphysical Poets, is now available from Paraclete Press.
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