Peter Mamara Poems

by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

Oh sweet mother… From the obscurity of time,
Through rustle of leaves, you call me to come.
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

(After Schiller)
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

Vanished dreams, many dried flowers,
These were the thrill of my life.
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

Forest, humble forest you,
How are you my dear?
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

Obedient, and to both of us a friend,
My love is consumed.
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

Come to the woods, at the spring
Which splashes on pebbles.
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

How the hope tenderly touches
And gently cheers up all the mortals.
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

At dusk on the hill, the horn calls with melancholy.
The herds climb up, as stars sparkle on their way.
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)
Time slips away, time comes.
All things are old, and new are all things.
What is good and what is not?
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

I don't want hymns and flags
— Or a rich tomb.
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