POEME ROMÂNESTI ÎN LIMBI STRĂINE

 

Mihai EMINESCU

Desire

Come to the forest, by the brook

Rippling over gravel banks,
Where the turfy porch of furrows

Hides under the boughing ranks.

As I stretch out my open arms,

There you’ll rush and lay on my chest,

While I’ll softly unpin your veil,

Lift it from your cheeks’ sweet rest.

There you’ll gently sit on my knees,

We’ll be alone, all alone there,

While ecstatic linden blossoms

Will cascade onto your hair.

 

You’ll lay on my embracing arm

Your white forehead and fair hair

Relinquish your sweet cherry lips

To my passionate mouth lair...

 

Thus blessed, we’ll dream but happy dreams
In the purl of lonely brooks,

Under the spell of soughing trees,
In the mild breeze of the nook ;

Lulled to sleep by the harmony
Of the forest laden with thought,
Linden blossoms will lightly sift
From above, with endless fragrance fraught.

 

The Lake

 

Yellow water lilies gently lade
The blue lake at the wood’s heart,
Spreading white startling circles,

It sways a boat with soft darts.
There I stroll along the lakeside,
Hear out, await in deep unrest,
There she might loom from the reeds
Sweetly falling on my breast ;

Soon we’ll leap into the tiny boat
Whelmed by the murmuring waves,
Soon I might drop the oars and helm
While the charm my heart enslaves ;

We’ll float our boat caught in the spell
Under the peaceful moonlight –
Reeds will whisper in the mild wind,
The undulous lake will sound delight !

Still, she does not loom... So lonesome,
I sigh from vain agonies
And stroll along the wood’s blue lake
Laden with water lilies.

 

So Fresh and Dainty...

So fresh and dainty, thou resemblest

The fragrant white cherry blossom

And like a fair angel thou loomest

On my life’s pathway so lightsome.

 

Thou touchest the soft carpet barely,

Thy taffeta garments rustle and stream

And from head to foot so unearthly,

Thou floatest like the gentlest dream.

 

The graceful draping of thy gown reclines,

Unshackling thy body’s marble bliss –
My ardent soul is anchored in thine eyes,

Lofty with sublime tears and happiness.

O happy dream of love, be blessed,

Dainty bride from sweet fairytales,

Smile at me no more ! Thy smiling, my beloved,

Pure love doth impart and mild gales,

 

Proving thy timeless enthralling charms

That shutter my eyes with sheer delight,

With thy enticing lips in warm whisper yarns,

With marmoreal embraces at twilight.

But soon a veiling thought would descend

To subdue thy glittering eyes :

It is denial’s gloomy torment,

The shadow of sweet desire’s sighs.

 

Thou leavest and so clearly I sensed

Never to pursue thy dearest shape,

Thou art eternally lost and fenced,

Bride of my soul in angel’s drape.

 

Since it’s my fault that I beheld thee,

And pardoning’s beyond my might,

I’ll expiate my dream of light with glee,

In vain reaching out my arms to hold you tight.

Thou shalt rise like the sacred icon

Of Holy Virgin Mary – love’s adjourn –,

The sparkling crown your forehead shalt adorn –

Where dost thou go ? When shalt thou return ?

What Is Love ?

What is love ? A long steady string
Of great tormenting sorrow,
Since thousands of tears it will bring
Yet demand more for its burrow.

A fleeting glance cast by her eyes
Will enthrall your thirsty soul,
So you will never stop from sighs
As long as your life thread unrolls.

And it will step over your threshold,
Conspire in every recess,
Making you yearn for sweetheart’s mould
In whispers of happiness :

Soon the Earth and the skies will wane,
Your stirred heart will wildly throb,
Your life rests on one word’s mane
Partly whispered, partly dropped.

You will be haunted weeks on end
By her gently enticing pace,
By a moment’s handshake spent
In fluttery lashes of grace.

 

The luminaries will pursue
– The befriending Sun and the Moon –
Many a time when days accrue
Perpetually under night’s loom.

 

Since your little life was foredoomed
To be laden with her love,
So desire has entwined your brood
Like the densest waterweed clasp.

 

Evenfall on the Hilltop

The evenfall alpenhorn laments on the hilltop,
Flocks of sheep mount, on their way stars twinkle and drop,
Streamlets weep, springs serenely murmur in the wells ;

Under the sweet locust, my love, awaiting me you dwell.

 

The blessed moon in divine robes crosses the sky,

Your large eyes seek in the thin leafage, wide and shy,

Trembling dewy stars are nascent on the cloudless vault,

Your breast heaves with longing, your forehead’s heavy with thought.

 

The clouds are drifting away, moonbeams cleave their flow,

Immemorial cottages slope up roof eaves and stow,

The wooden well sweep creeks, borne by the gentle wind,

The valley rolls chimney smokes, sheepfold pipes sing as if sheened

 

And, weary from farm work, carrying scythes on their backs,

Men return from cornfields ; the church wooden plate loudly clacks,

The olden church bell ringing floods the evenfall air,

My soul craves for your love, burning with high flare.

Ah ! soon the village will hush under veils of quiescence ;

Ah ! soon I shall hasten my footsteps to your candescence :

Under the sweet locust we’ll abide the whole night,

I shall whisper my love for you and my sheer delight.

 

We shall lay our heads on each other’s shoulder, in ecstasy,

Smilingly falling asleep under the olden tall locust tree,

Thus being the night plenteous in splendours,

Who would not subdue his life to love’s favours ?

(English version: Gabriela PACHIA)