Peter Mamara Poems

by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

From old mountains, from big forests
Surface springs that flow with a patter.
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

Below marble arches,
Why do you look at him with ghastly anxiety in your eyes?
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

If you all talk, I pretend that I can't hear,
I don't say no, and I don't praise you.
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by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

The world is split, into the ones who seek
— And the ones who know.
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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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