Peter Mamara Poems

by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

Dress in mourning, scenic Bukovina Province you,
With green Cypress, tie your ancient brow.
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

Pretty woman, you go by in my sad and dark thoughts,
White like a sculpture, in a silver dress,
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

The sound of the sea whispers faintly and bit by bit.
And it engulfs the beautiful Italian peninsula in it.
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

And if tree branches knock at the windows
And shake the poplars…
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

To a new born
(Arabic)
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

The hall is fully decorated with white-like-snow fabric,
Stitched with leaves and dark red roses.
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

Oh, crying I count.
It tolls midnight.
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

She follows her way into the woods.
I start to follow her footsteps.
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

I have opened a few pages with their old fonts
From the old book with smoked covers chewed by moths,
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

I had a muse. She was beautiful
Like only in a dream, once in one's lifetime
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