Verses by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Julia Kalman
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Winter is Coming
When the winter’s icy breath from the north,
Sweeps over vast, expansive fields in its course.
When silver shines on the country’s wide expanse,
Winds shake wings, snowflakes in a rhythmic dance.
I like, then, in my chair by the hearth to sit,
Hearing dogs barking under fences lit.
Quenching the embers with tongs, a subtle twist,
Contemplating tales, a poet’s exquisite gist.
On the floor, maidens sit on woven mats,
Teasing wool with hands, and with laughter chats.
Meanwhile, lost in thoughts, I withdraw from the world,
Mentally wander where stories are unfurled
The clock chimes — a cricket’s somber hum,
And warmth flows through my distinguished veins, overcome.
I see golden roses and fiery kisses bright,
In the flames, stories burst, scattered in the night,
Like the words of a granny, tiny, tender, yet vast.
Then, the fire tells its tale, captivating to the last.
From it, I hear the story as I wish to hear,
Intertwining with its flickering voice so clear.
And proudly, this blend, my thoughts reveal,
Unraveling them again, as it desires to deal.
Thus, thoughts string a thousand beads in a line,
A stretched and gleaming thread without a sign.
Sleep captures me in its gentle embrace,
And in dreams, their astonished voices trace.
Through the ringing thread, the clock with lament,
Resounds like an old and hoarse cricket’s descent.
Even a mother’s prayer falls silent in the end,
To sparkling thoughts, she puts an understanding blend.
I reach her, and night, with its shadows wide,
On her sweet forehead, gathers dreams that bide.
Love gently softens its extinguished wings,
On her eyes, I seek profound kiss-rings.
She closes her eyes, long lashes with tears adorned,
Her voice is a song in gentle tremors formed,
On her round, white, smooth breasts, my forehead she places,
And as we both sleep, she smiles and watches our embraces.
But all those tales, in my dreams, persist,
They combine, they entwine, they struggle, they resist.
The fairy maidens, with eyes of sweet gaze,
Black-haired, with tails, and a gentle face,
Handsome lads with locks in radiant wear,
Eyes like gazelles, tall and proud as the beech tree’s air.
In the dreams of sleep, they gather and blend,
Celebrating weddings that seem not to end.
It appears to me, fair Beauty’s sweet,
With eyes of starry blue and hair like wheat,
Falls for me, so light, in love ethereal,
Rests on my knees, weaving dreams surreal.
I smooth her eyebrows with my gentle hand,
She closes her eyes, smiling in her own land.
Her eyes are full of tears that she can’t comprehend,
With barely parted lips, she tells me words to mend.
It seems like summer, with sweet brown nights,
Where fields ripple, and waters have gentle lights.
A harmonious moon pierces through clouds in the air,
Stars shake from the heavens, and gently they share.
Through blooming fields, together we roam,
Gathering proud flowers, for her to become.
She, caring and tender, smiles at me sweetly,
And my soul laughs, and my heart grows fleetly.
The moon, through clouds, like an angel, guards,
Sleep brings innocent children into the yards.
Every river wave adorns itself with a ray,
Trees shiver in the rock’s foreheads, and they sway.
Light spreads like a luminous canvas wide,
On mulberry trees full of blossoms beside.
And I, by the trunk of one, dream of her awake,
In the rain of pink flowers, for her, I wait.
She comes, and on my breast, when she gently leans,
Into my curls, her small hand weaves, it seems.
Her moist breath, pure and childlike,
Softly blows on my forehead, and my eyes, alike.
Then, her surprised face on my chest she rests,
And tears of love flood her eyes that suggest.
And I on her hands, her mouth, her eyes, her neck,
Slowly, intoxicated by love, caress, and peck.
You are My Love, My World, My Everything
A thousand kisses awaken a myriad of dreams,
And her troubled forehead bows like a lily’s gleams.
In her clear eyes, beneath her closed lashes tight,
A world of dreams, a world of serenity takes flight.
She speaks without words, her sweet smiles meld,
With tears, they blend, and her lips sigh compelled.
She sleeps thus awake when she wakes from her dream,
She searches for my lips, with her eyes that beam.
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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Julia Kalman 