Verses by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Julia Kalman
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By the Lone Poplars
By the lone poplars, oft I’d pass,
Known by all the neighbors near;
They all recognized me, alas —
You never saw me here.
By your window’s gleaming light,
I gazed so frequently,
The world around understood aright —
But you misunderstood me.
How many times I’ve waited long
For a whisper in reply!
A day in which you’d hear my song,
One day would satisfy.
For just an hour, let’s be friends,
With love that deeply stirs,
To listen to your voice that tends
To whisper sweetly, and then it blurs.
From your clear and tender eye,
If you’d give a deliberate gaze,
Along the path of time, oh, my,
A star would light our ways.
You’d live forevermore,
Through countless lives, you’d soar,
With your cold, majestic embrace,
You’d sculpt a timeless face.
A visage I’d adore each day,
Unmatched by fairies in their flight,
Those magical beings who array
Themselves through ancient night.
For I loved you with pagan eyes,
Full of sorrow and despair,
Inherited from ancestors wise,
Passed down through the air.
Today, not even regret’s embrace,
As I pass less frequently by your side,
For with sadness, your head turns to trace
In vain, the place where I abide.
For now, you resemble all,
In stride and in your presence,
And I look at you dispassionately,
With eyes as cold as death’s essence.
You should have embraced
That sacred charm of old,
And at night, the flame placed,
Of love, burning bright and bold.
Evening on the Hill
Evening on the hill, the horn laments,
Guiding flocks, stars in their ascent,
Waters weep, clear springs enhance,
Beneath a lone locust, my love’s stance.
The moon crosses the sky so divine,
Your large eyes search the rare vine,
Stars shed tears on the serene dome,
Your chest with longing, your forehead with foam.
Clouds flow, their rays in lines divide,
Old eaves in the moonrise abide,
The scales creak in the wind’s ballet,
The valley veiled, whistles in the pen sway.
Fatigued farmers with scythes in hand,
Return from the fields, toilsome band,
The old bell echoes its evening chime,
My soul ablaze with love like a prime.
Ah! Soon the village below will hush,
Ah! Soon my steps toward you rush,
By the lone locust, all night through,
For hours, I’ll confess how much I adore you.
Our heads will rest side by side,
Smiling, we’ll sleep ‘neath the tall,
Old locust tree. Such a night so wide,
Who wouldn’t give their life in thrall?
If I Could Have
If I could have a flower fair, beyond compare,
As the flowers of May so rare,
Daughter sweet of a charming glade,
A glade that laughs with grass inlaid,
Swaying gently to and fro,
Whispering secrets as they go;
If I could have a little flower,
Graceful and fresh, with gentle power,
Like the lily in its prime,
White as snow, in beauty’s clime,
Blending hues of rose and white,
Singing joyous, light, and bright,
Softly humming, light, and pure,
Whispering secrets of amour;
If I could have a little dove,
With a face as innocent as a child’s love,
A tender child, sweet and mild,
Like a day in spring beguiled,
Throughout your little day so bright,
I’d sing a lullaby so light,
I’d sing it gently evermore,
Whispering secrets of amour.
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Julia Kalman 