At The Tomb Of Aron Pumnu Poem by Peter Mamara

by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

Dress in mourning, scenic Bukovina Province you,
With green Cypress, tie your ancient brow.
A shining light of a star has just set.
From the group of virtuous men of gold,
A fine famous man has died.

The vibrating metallic sadness of bells
Tolls rhythmically, loudly, and it sounds distressing.
Because oh, the great genius of your awakening,
Has walked on the way to immortality.
And he left us behind!

Oh, you great and noble genius, you've left this world
There, where all the angels await for you in choir.
They subtly intonate the sweet song of the spheres,
Weaving for you garlands, nice smelling wreaths of white flowers.

Bukovina cries for you. It cries for you in loud voice.
And the people from your birthplace cry sadly for you.
For the reason that slowly with their teary eyes,
They follow with their eyes, your noble spirit in its revered ascent.
It's a feeling of national proportion.

May the sad tears follow your journey!
May the tears that the young students shed on your grave,
Follow you in your flight, with sad hymns
In harmonious sighs and resounding sad songs,
There, in the Elise's fields!
(1874)

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