Verses by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Julia Kalman
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The Enchanting Fairy
White shadows, sparkling and bright,
Give birth to the silver moonlight.
She spreads them over the waters wide,
Laying them gently in the countryside.
Gathering flowers in twilight’s trance,
To weave a spider’s delicate dance.
She embroiders the cloak of night,
With precious stones, gleaming and bright.
By the lake, where the clouds have spun,
A delicate shadow, a veil undone.
Broken by the movements of waves,
Like spheres of light in watery caves.
Leaning her reed to one side,
The girl by the lake does quietly bide.
Casting red roses with a magical art,
Upon the spellbound water, a work of heart.
To glimpse a face, she intently peers,
As the water ripples in perfect spheres.
For the lake is enchanted, long ago spoken,
By a word, the holy Wednesday has woven.
To reveal the face that she longs to see,
Young roses she tosses, wild and free.
For even the roses, captivated, twine,
By a word, the holy Friday does assign.
She gazes on; her hair aglow,
Her face in the moonlight’s gentle flow.
In her azure eyes, a magical tune,
Where all fairy tales softly commune.
Prince Charming of the Linden Tree
Blanca, know, from the cradle’s embrace,
The Lord is destined to be your groom’s grace,
For born you were, sweet child divine,
From love unworthy, yet pure and fine.
Hands at the holy Ana’s shrine,
Beneath the starry sign divine,
You’ll find the caress of life’s fate,
The salvation for my face’s state.
I won’t, dear father, let them sever,
My young and joyous soul forever,
I love the hunt, the games unfold,
Let others bear the world’s heavy hold.
I won’t cut my hair, a flowing cascade,
Reaching down to my heels, in shade,
To go blind reading from a holy book,
In the fragrant smoke of incense, I forsook.
I know better what suits your grace,
Leave behind the world’s relentless chase,
At dawn, we’ll set out, hearts unwound,
Towards the old and holy monastery, profound.
She hears, she weeps, it seems a dream,
As if to leave this world, she deems,
Led by desolate thoughts, a yearning unnamed,
A heartache deep, a soul inflamed.
Weeping, she restrains her noble steed,
Snow-white and swift, it takes the lead,
She smooths its proud mane with care,
And, crying, she saddles it with flair.
She leaps atop, and they depart,
Hair dancing in the wind, a work of art,
Not looking ahead, nor turning back,
On lost paths, through the woodland track.
In the valley, she walks through the night,
Into endless woods, out of sight,
As the evening’s red rays fade away,
From the heavens, a farewell display.
Shadows glisten in the woods like lightning,
As she passes through, eyes brightening,
Amidst the leaves’ gentle murmur,
And the bees’ soft, rhythmic hummer.
Into the heart of the forest, she arrives,
By the ancient linden tree, where life thrives,
And the bewitched spring sweetly sings,
In her ears, enchanting echoes ring.
Awoken by the gentle murmur of water,
She startles, a world to alter,
Sees a young man by her side,
On a black horse, where shadows hide.
With large eyes, he looks at her,
Dreamy, tender, love to confer,
Linden flowers in his black hair,
A silver horn at his side, rare.
He begins to play, enchanting and dolorous,
His heart swells with a love so wondrous,
For the beautiful stranger before his eyes,
In the moonlit night, beneath starry skies.
His hair touches hers in a tender graze,
And her cheeks blush with a radiant haze,
She lowers her long lashes, shy,
Over eyes that speak, deep and sly.
A smile graces his lips, enchanting,
Her lips, dried by love, begin granting,
Opening, long parched and dry,
In the moonlit night, under the starry sky.
When entirely captivated by the scene,
She bends toward him, a soul serene,
He stops playing, with a mournful voice,
And speaks, making a momentous choice.
He embraces her while on horseback,
She defends with one hand, trying to push back,
Yet, she yields, feeling her heart’s embrace,
With love’s fervor, filling every space.
On his shoulder, her head gently falls,
Her face turned upward, within love’s thralls,
While the horses graze, silent and near,
She gazes at him, her soul sincere.
Only the sweet murmur of the enchanted spring,
Deafeningly melancholic, makes the heart sing,
As the moon emerges, casting shadows in grace,
On the field white as snow, in a moonlit embrace.
And she continually lengthens shadows cast,
Climbing up the sky, memories vast,
But they pass, lost in the woods’ green glow,
With their lives lost, in a timeless throw.
At the castle gate, the horse stands in foam,
The next day, it seems like a distant roam,
But his beautiful mistress, in a world unknown,
Remains lost, her destiny overthrown.
Mihai Eminescu (born January 15, 1850, died June 15, 1889) was a renowned Romanian Romantic poet, novelist, and journalist. He is celebrated as the most prominent and influential figure in Romanian poetry, known for his extensive collection of 46 volumes and around 14,000 pages of manuscripts, and his exploration of metaphysical, mythological, and historical themes in his poetry.
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