Peter Mamara Poems

By M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

They ask me to sing... I'm supposed to polish
My deep sadness in rhyme and in cadence —
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

A gadfly must've bitten your hand
Since you move your pen on paper non-stop.
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

Our young men study in Paris
— How to tie a knot to a necktie.
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

A song moans and sighs in my lyre,
Since I scatter my ill feelings into the wind.
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

Oh, I've asked from zodiacal constellations
— The maker of my fate —
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

Today is the first day of May.
Today is May Pole day.
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by M. Eminescu (1950-1889)

Why do you whisper so quietly
With sweet songs, spring you?
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

The woman? Other than an eternal toy of her own-dreams,
What else is this bone of contention?
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

When I saw you, Verena, then I've said to myself:
I shall lock my feelings, and I shall lock up my mind,
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

Being lost in the pain of my insignificance —
Like lightning into a chasm, like a leaf on water —
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