Peter Mamara Poems
by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)
A crested chicken with snowy plumage
Lives in a secluded coop, like in a cool refuge.
There isn't any cock over the whole yard,
Which could stalk her chaste youth.
How coquettish she is. And how graciously she walks.
And what lovely stars she paints with her claw in the sand.
She is a virtuous chick. She is a too good chick.
She looks devoutly for barley seeds and breadcrumbs.
But who is to admire her youthful looks and her charm?
Should it be the bull with one eye, which sees only half of its hay?
Odin And The Poet
By M. Eminescu (1850-1889)
They ask me to sing... I'm supposed to polish
My deep sadness in rhyme and in cadence —
Sweetly, like the spring moonlight
As seen in a garden in Italy at night —
And with my sweet poems I'm supposed to make any woman sigh.
How nice it could be for many men. For me, no! Not for me.
And silly young guys