If I'd Die Or If You'd Die Poem by Peter Mamara

by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

With a sad ecstasy I hold you now in my arms.
We live gaze-to-gaze and chest to bosoms.
And your mouth smiles at me. And your eyes coach me.
As we hold our joy on ours chests, the way we want.

But if I ever die, thoughtful lass,
You think that from heaven, I'd love you less?
And I'd live in peace in the sunny worlds
Were I shall live on and on?

No, no dear lass… If you may hear into the night,
When in prayer you shall watch a bleak votive light,
If you'd hear how a sad soft trace of a voice
Reaches your ear, talking nonsense…

If you'd hear a broken harp, which cries,
Like the sinister grief, which moans and roars through ruins,
You shall know that in that nigh, which is full of darkness,
Angel you, to you I showed my face.

You shall open the window, so I can get in, like a sacred breeze,
Through the forgotten pots with wilted flowers,
So I can caress with my breath your pale face
—With its thoughtful eyes.

But if you'd die, pale angel of light you…
God Almighty, what am I going to do?
Shall I cry for you with the wind, which with its cold blows
— Whistles in the ruins?

I shall mourn your name, angel you, who come from heavens.
I shall spread it into pale flowers, and into burning stars.
I shall praise you like the river splashed by bubbles, does
— On nights, which don't come to a close.

And if I shall carry my pain trough cliffs, which raise to the sky,
Through peaks with crushed tops, on many unknown seas,
Through the old mountain ranges and through quiet wilds
—Through the clouds on the skies.

Until old and pale, with grey-like-a-rock head,
I shall snap off my lyre — strings that no longer exist.
And inside a stone, I would send to sleep my unfathomable heart
—With its mad lust.
(1869)

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