Oh, My Gentle Sweetheart Let Me
by Mihai Eminescu (1850-1889)
Oh, let me look at your face, my gentle sweetie,
And at your eyes, which are like the sky.
Let me caress your silky-golden hair, too.
I'll go mad with love only if I look at you.
Your white and round hands go down my shoulders
With grace, oh! I look in your eyes,
At your face, and at your youthful lips; and shocked,
I listen to your silly chat.
Silly, because except for beauty and simple sentiment,
It has no meaning, and it hasn’t got an end.
So, it can cover your mouth’s puzzling proposal,
Which, it lies to me with a smile.
It says no, when your avid eye says it’s all right.
Oh baby, my entire affection is alert
Towards your radiant body;
Your eyes are stars into my hours-of-night.
And your smile is a sun’s shaft of light.
And your bosoms are like fresh snow
Which, you slowly shield them with your hand.
When you smile, and when you look shyly
At its sweet flowers that grow nearby,
And your kiss… oh tell me, tell me,
That nice deal… What shall I associate it with?
If you weren’t real… What purpose would life have?
With desires and goodness and everything else…
If dreams were mixed with confusion,
It would be torture for me. And I would end it, if I could.
Filled by the stars that spin in the sky,
A night is great in a similar way.
So, the dull moon passes flanked by many a star.
Sweetheart, give me a kiss, and one more…
Your mouth becomes lined towards kissing,
And it dreams about the sad gaze of your eye,
My darling, you’re teasing me.
Don’t you know that kissing is wrong?
And with her tender beauty,
With her sleepy small eye,
And with her loving looks of hair,
She can’t ever be forgotten, without a tear.
Since, what would you say?
If I would forget everything... you see.
It is true you only need your utterance
So, you can shackle my secret existence.
And as it’s said, seriously, or in jest:
With it, you renew my excitement.
Will you say it? Oh hush, and don’t say it.
You said it? I’m in trouble, wise one you.
Your kind speech leads to nowhere.
I smile at your composure.
Expecting a kiss, your lips form ranks.
Your eyes close their eyelids expecting a kiss.
You are a sly one! You have some circles around your eyelids.
Your eyes sparkle, and it seems to me that you are amused.
Your cover your eyes with your hand. Are you in pain?
Why do you act as if… you, my sly loved one?
Comments about this poem (Oh, My Gentle Sweetheart Let Me by Peter Mamara )
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