She Is Pretty Poem by Peter Mamara

by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

The clear sky mirrors
Into the emerald, gentle lake:
With the white-silver clouds
— With the sun putting an end to any haze.
The moist meadow on the shore
— Mirrors in the wet wave.
A cliff — torn by arctic conditions
— Raises its top to the sky.

I climb up on the shattered cliff
And I put wings to my thoughts.
From there, I look towards the sunrise
— With my mystified eyes.
Tired and spellbound, I search the sky to the west.
I climb down the cliff after that.
I go to sleep amid flowers with scent.
I listen to the wave's noise
— At the sweet sigh of a breeze.

I can see the nature all around me
— And on top, it is like a blue dome.
On the ground is a green carpet
With thousand of new weaved flowers.
I see how the water gently swells
And how the wind: frowns with a sigh.
I feel soft breezes with chilly wings
— Dipped in scent of flowers.

I see swans, like twisted boats,
They beat their wings through the waves.
I see weightless blue butterflies
Swarm and sip nectar from flowers.

Why don't I have wings so I could fly?
I could even become a weightless butterfly.
A gentle and buoyant one
— With a joyous heart of a child.
And like a child I could land on a lily
So, I could sip the essence of your bosoms.
Since, I am angry with a flower
That is as good-looking as today.

(1866)

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