The Tale Of The Forest Poem by Peter Mamara

The Tale Of The Forest



by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

The forest is a venerated monarch.
Thousands of nearest and dearest grow at its feet.
Everything blossoms
— With His Majesty the Forest' s consent.
It carries on its coat of arms
The Moon, the Sun and the Morning Star.
It has ladies around.
And it has courtiers from the Stag's kin.

Heralds are the quick hares.
These are the carriers of news.
Its orchestra are the nightingales.
And the springs are storytellers.

One can see heavy armies of ants
— On routes along water streams.
Bees move forward above flowers
— Which grow under the trees.

Let's go to the king my dear
And we shall be children once more.
And our luck and affection
Shall seem to us like toys.

The nature might seem to me
That it has amassed its entire ingenuity.
And then life had handed over
To me the top doll.

You and I shall run away lost in thought.
And we shall be dead to the world:
Next to the spring, which gushes
— Beneath the linden tree.

We shall sleep. The linden tree
Shall fill mounds of flowers over us,
And in our sleep
We shall hear the horn's sound
Coming from the sheepfold.

We shall hold tight closer and closer,
Chest to bosoms…
Oh, now listen how it seems
That the king calls his wise counselling teams.

The moon glows through the tree branches
— On the pale water springs.
The proud kin of the Court
Comes near us.

The white horses, which live near the sea,
Tall bisons with stars on their heads,
Stags with branched horns,
Agile mountain female-harts

And they ask the Linden tree who we are.
And they discuss things.
And pushing aside its branches
Our host says:

" Oh, look at them how they have so many dreams
— The dreams of the beech forest.
They love each other
Like in a fairy tale."

(1878 March 1)

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