by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)
It is not a twinkling little star.
So it doesn't reflect
On a thoroughfare full of clouds
To another shining star…
To another love…
Only a life with the thought of death,
Only a brow that turns yellow,
Only a tiny part that hasn't been blessed
Only these aren't loved.
A god shall not have as an altar
— A yellow star without glow.
It is my mind that stops
My own heart…
(1867)
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