Verses by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Julia Kalman
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Once there was a singer rare,
Beautiful and sensitive, beyond compare.
He sang within a mighty hall,
At the king’s table, held in thrall.
A lovely maiden he did possess,
Such beauty, the tales confess.
With laughing eyes of azure hue,
And golden hair that brightly grew.
The singer loved her with all his might,
And one evening, ‘neath the moon’s soft light,
Through gardens, he confessed his flame,
His voice quivering as he spoke her name.
She listened to his ardent plea,
With a voice firm and decree:
“Forever yours, I cannot be,
Unless a king you come to be.”
Off he went, a quest he chose,
Through lands and realms, his power grows.
Ancient castles shattered by his might,
Proud kings defeated; their rule in flight.
Some for love, his reign embraced,
While others in fear and trembling faced.
He became a king, a sovereign lord,
His realm expanding, his subjects adored.
Then, back he ventured, with joy and cheer,
To the grand castle, the one held dear.
Where love sparkled like stars above,
And deep within, thrived endless love.
But alas! When he entered the lofty hall,
Where love once echoed like a soft call,
Upon a sarcophagus laid with care,
Lay the maiden, now cold and fair.
Like pale wax, her visage glowed,
Soft, blond hair in tendrils flowed.
Resigned, her form on display,
A blend of gold and innocence lay.
Mystic priests in whispered prayer,
And tolling bells hung in the air.
“So much I suffered, grandeur and woe,
And thus, it all came to an end, you know.
I question fate with a heavy heart,
Why did it tear us apart?”
She had heard he’d fallen in battle’s tide,
And in grief, like a storm, she died.
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Julia Kalman 