Elegy Poem by Peter Mamara

by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

(With an ancient beat)

I didn't believe I might ever learn to die.
Dressed warmly in my coat, forever young,
With the star of solitude as my dreaming eye,
I have raised to Heaven in the end.

My torment you, when painfully pleasant,
You appear in my way, out of the blue,
I have drunk to the bottom
— The voluptuousness of the pitiless death.

Pitilessly, I burn alive like Nessus,
Or like Hercules poisoned by his fleece,
And I cannot quench my passion.
— With all the water of the ocean.

I cry, gobbled up by my own dream.
I burn in fire on my own fire stake.
Could I come back to life after I die
— Like Phoenix?

My eye, unusually sad, may die out.
Distressing neglect,
Please come back into my chest,
And hand me back to myself
So I could happily die.

(1883 December)

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