|
 |
|
|
 |
ALTHOUGH THE WORLD... |
|
|
|
Although the world would call me free
Each year the more her slave am I,
For in her very way to be
There's I don't know what, I don't know why.
Already from the day we met
Was my freedom mortal shot?
She's but a girl as they, and yet
There's something more, I don't know what.
No matter what we speak, or do,
The moments in sweet silence fly,
For somehow there is music too
When she is mute, I don't Imow why.
So likely to my dying day
To follow her will be my lot,
For in her sweet and candid way
There's I don't know why, I don't know what.
Translated by
Corneliu M. Popescu
|
|
| |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
 |
DE-OR TRECE ANII... |
|
|
|
De-or trece anii cum trecura,
Ea tot mai mult īmi va place,
Pentru ca-n toat-a ei faptura
E-un "nu stiu cum" s-un "nu stiu ce".
M-a fermecat cu vreo scānteie
Din clipa-n care ne vazum ?
Desi nu e decāt femeie,
E totusi altfel, "nu stiu cum".
De-aceea una-mi este mie
De ar vorbi, de ar tace;
Dac-al ei glas e armonie,
E si-n tacere-i "nu stiu ce".
Astfel robit de-aceeasi jale
Petrec mereu acelasi drum...
In taina farmecelor sale
E-un "nu stiu ce" s-un "nu stiu cum".
1883, dec.
Mihail Eminescu
|
|
| |
|
|
|
