Peter Mamara Poems

by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

I shall never forget you, my sweet Bukovina province,
With your romantic border, with sunny mountains
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

If Apollo would let me choose from assorted wreaths,
I would not choose a garland with fresh delicate flowers
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

An Assyrian king has a broken heart.
His armies are being chased off
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

Now I climb down to you, delusional souls,
To burn the gall out of you, oh you dizzy spirits.
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

And so you walked over the world's boundaries
Like a torch that keeps an eye on moist tombs,
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

At night, when my spirit watches in ecstasies,
I see my guardian angel, like in dreams,
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

The toned down and purple fire, it smoulders in the fireplace.
I look at it from a corner, while I sit on a red sofa
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

Oh! The big-bellied flask is good only as a candlestick.
Sizzling, the candle burns its tallow dripping on the wick.
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

The forest is a venerated monarch.
Thousands of nearest and dearest grow at its feet.
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

I'm seated at my pine table.
The curtains in the room are dropped,
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