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Mihai Eminescu

The Lake

Water lilies load all over
The blue lake amid the woods,
That imparts, while in white circles
Startling, to a boat its moods.

And along the strands I‘m passing
Listening, waiting, in unrest,
That she from the reeds may issue
And fall, gently, on my breast;

That we may jump in the little
Boat, while water‘s voices whelm
All our feelings; that enchanted
I may drop my oars and helm;

That all charmed we may be floating
While moon‘s kindly light surrounds
Us, winds cause the reeds to rustle
And the waving water sounds.

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poem by Mihai Eminescu from Poems (Poesii) (September 1876), translated by Dimitrie CuclinReport problemRelated quotes
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When Memory ...

When memory of bygone days
My spirit would detain
Down long and often trodden ways
I travel the past again.

Above your house are lit as then
The same bright stars of old,
That shone those summer evenings when
My passion's tale I told.

And through the branches' silver lace
The moon peers from above.
As when midst lovers' warm embrace
We whispered of our love.

Our hearts a solemn vow then took
To love for ever and aye;
While tenderly the lilac shook
Its blossoms on our way.

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poem by Mihai EminescuReport problemRelated quotes
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Why Don't You Come?

See the swallows quit the eaves
And fall the yellow walnut leaves,
The vines with autumn frost are numb,
Why don't you come, why don't you come?

Oh, come into my arms' embrace
That I may gaze upon your face,
And lay my head in grateful rest
Against your breast, against your breast!

Do you remember when we strayed
The meadows and the secret glade,
I kissed you midst flowering thyme
How many a time, how many a time?

Some women on the earth there are
Whose eyes shine as the evening star,
But be their charm no matter what,
Like you they're not, like you they're not!

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poem by Mihai EminescuReport problemRelated quotes
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What is Love

What is love ? A lifetime spent
Of days that pain does fill,
That thousand tears can't content,
But asks for tears still.

With but a little glance coquet
Your soul it knows to tie,
That of its spell you can't forget
Until the day you die.

Upon your threshold does it stand,
In every nook conspire,
That you may whisper hand in hand
Your tale of heart's aspire.

Till fades the very earth and sky,
Your heart completely broken,
And all the world hangs on a sigh,
A word but partly spoken.

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The Waves of Time

Arise again, beloved, out of the waves of time
With your long golden tresses and marble arms sublime;
Your face that now transparent and pale as wax is pale
Is shaded by the shadow of sorrow's clinging veil!
Your timid smile caressing does rest within my eyes,
O star amidst fair women, o queen of starry skies;
Your head upon your shoulder its wealth of beauty lays
And in your eyes of wonder I'm lost and weeping gaze.

Out of the void's dark vapours may you once more uprear,
That to my heart I clasp you, beloved angel dear,
That I in nameless weeping above your face may bend
And on your lips forever my burning kisses spend.
While your cold hand unheeding I clasp against my breast,
Closer, yet still closer, against my bosom pressed.

Alas, not thus the darkness gives back its own again;
Now through its icy vapours I see your shadow wane.
With hanging arms and helpless once more I am alone
Before a dream unending of hours that have gone;

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'Tis Eve on the Hillside

'Tis eve on the hillside, the bagpipes are distantly wailing,
Flocks going homewards, and stars o'er the firmament sailing,
Sound of the bubbling spring sorrow's legend narrating,
And beneath a tall willow for me, dear one, you are waiting.

The wandering moon up the heavens her journey is wending,
Big-eyed you watch through the boughs her gold lantern ascending,
Now over the dome of the sky all the planets are gleaming,
And heavy your breast with its longing, your brow with its dreaming.

Cornfields bright flooded with beams by the clouds steeply drifted,
Old cottage gables of thatch to the moonlight uplifted,
The tall wooden arm of the well in the wind softly grating,
And the shepherd-boy's pipe from the sheep-pen sad "doina" relating.

The peasants, their scythes on their backs, from their labour are coming,
The sound of the "toaca" its summons more loudly is drumming,
While the clang of the village church bell fills the evening entire,
And with longing for you like a faggot my soul is on fire.

[...] Read more

poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Corneliu M. PopescuReport problemRelated quotes
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Mihai Eminescu
Mihai Eminescu