The Love For A Statue Poem by Peter Mamara

by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

An Assyrian king has a broken heart.
His armies are being chased off
The way the sea's roaring outbreak
Throws its fizzy rage at a rock.
Why am I not a king, so I could slap with a warning?
Why am I not Satan? Why am I not God?
I could make a new world
And destroy the world, which breaks my shattered heart.

A lion in the wilds roars its rage repeatedly.
An ocean gets drunk because of the winds' play.
And the clouds express quickly through thunder
— Their warning of unleashing fire, their dying agony.
I'm alone. I have no one to tell my horrible pain.
I'm alone. I have no one to tell my mad affection.
Since, my fate gave to me
— The sad comfort of loving an effigy.

Fate gives hope to the dying man, and reprisal to recklessness.
It gives hassle to a psychic, and God to the faith.
And to the one that commits suicide,
Fate gives a shadow that scares off his misery.
Fate gives nothing to me. My fate gave nothing to me.
Nothing except your photo that poisons me. And it makes me sick.
Nothing but your gentle smile's keepsake...
Nothing, but a ray from your clear face…
And from your bright eye, it gave me luck.

And I love you lass, how an active young guy
Loves the day's luck with his passionate eye.
Similarly, I love an ocean of fire
I love a light that the storm loves.
If my feeble gaze clamps together the gifts from you…
If the nice shape of yours, shudders at my chest…
You would place it on my brow — while dreaming about fame —
Like it would have been placed on a child's dream.

And your step hurries behind you with a secret rage.
Like a smitten guy that searches with his watery eye.
With his blue forehead with his dull face,
For the image he loved.

(1868, September the 19th - October the 1st)

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