Dream Poem by Peter Mamara

by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

What a strange dream I had.
But dreams are the results of sleep.
The night-mind invents them, and are told
— By the mouth of the dark night.

I drift on a stream. Faint flickers
Are mirrored on the waves.
The darkness of the forest is behind me.
The royal domes are much ahead.

Black sacred domes
Rise enchantingly on an island.
And the moon whitens the long walls.
It fills each corner with shadows.

I climb up the stairs. I go inside.
There is a mysterious silence at my step.
Through darkness
I see tall shapes of sains on icons.

Below the large dome,
One seed of fire barely lights.
A cross appears in front of it.
And it is dark all over the place.

Now, from up there, from the choir's site,
A sad hymn forces down on the cold walls,
Like a mournful request
— For the eternal rest.

A veiled shape appears slowly
It wears an attire of a gentleman.
He looks like in a dream, amid the sad sound.
And he has a small torch in his frail hand.

And my eye stops moving in my head.
And my voice dries up of fright.
I rip the veil off his face swiftly.
I shake. I turn at a halt. It is I.
……………………………………………
Ever since I walk at daytime, like in sleep.
And sometimes I forget what I just say.
I whisper words, which make no sense.
And it seems I wait for one thing.

So I can die?

(1876)

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