At Night Poem by Peter Mamara

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
Until my mind goes to sleep, until my eyelids blink,
The candle is already quenched in my room…
My sleep is slow and tranquil.

Then, through the darkness you come close, looking happy,
White like the snow of winter, sweet like the summer day.
You sit on my knee. Dear, your arm embraces my neck,
And you gaze with tenderness at my face that goes pale.

You embrace my neck with your white arm, which is soft,
Round, and perfumed; you rest your head on my chest.
And after that awaken from a dream, you push aside my hair-locks
From my sad brow: with your white, sweet and small hands.

You straighten my still brow slowly and idly
And as you thought I was asleep, you press your hot mouth—sly you—
On my eyes that are shut, like I would be asleep, and on my mid-forehead,
And you smile: like a dream laughs in a beloved heart.

Oh! Cuddle it until my brow is gentle and straight.
Oh, cuddle it while you are young—like the sunlight,
While you are fair like dew, while you are as fresh as a flower,
While my face is not wrinkled, while my heart is not old…

(1871, June 15)

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