Lost For Me, You Go By Through The World Poem by Peter Mamara

by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

Lost for me, you go by smiling through the world
And I shall love you forever. I'll know my punishment…
I shall stretch my arm after your shadow forever,
And pin my hope on the move of your eyebrows.

The smile of your cruel mouth shall be my creed.
You shall see me delighted, while I hold death into my heart.
Be blessed and joyful, lass you —with your blond hair —
You who made me lose my mind.

My bitterness' venom and my lonely years,
Weigh less than you whim does.
And to my estimate: I feel I am so insignificant.
You are the darling to this world.
And I feel I'm unimportant.

Yes, yes… only nature is forever right
Lass you, with warm mouth and with tiny cold feet,
Since nature in its wisdom creates such a façade,
Next to which, each and every one, are chaff and sand.
Nature seems to say ironically: you miserable pigs,
Have you ever dreamt up such riches?

Then nature shows you, in its true pride
How one gets mad with pain, or dies of jealousy.
I see how you bestow your cheerful smile on many.
And you talk to anyone joyfully and sweetly.
You spend foolishly your intent look,
When, I die to hear a word from your mouth.

You are so beautiful. And are you only a woman?
Oh, for a moment I thought you could be a goddess,
That, cold like a statue, passes by, alongside people.
You look like no other mortal.
Then, I shall adore you, like I adore a star on the sky.
Oh, you sweet shape of an angel — and still earthly…

Yes, mortal… which is the curse of this world.
You devote yourself to the sun, and you had venerated the spark.
I look for the maddest wise-man
That could show me at least one woman without desires.
And I… I shall believe him. I'm capable to believe anything,
If I could just see her shape — like the shape of an angel…

I'd believe that her lips have never touched other lips.
I'd believe that her ear never wants to hear about love.
And she never stopped her eye with a gentle pause on a man's face…
Since she did not affix her thought
Or with her deed, to another person…
I believe all these. I believe them all… Why don't you tell me?

Tell me that she is white like the fresh snow.
Her girdle isn't even as a fist, and she took it off while still new.
Tell me that her mouth is youthful. Her eye is like an eye of a virgin.
And her sweet hand is like a lily.
And no one had ever hugged her. And she didn't answer back to hugs.
And the thirst for love didn't come on her lips.

But oh my, she is so pretty! Could she resist
To those warm words whispered with sadness
—Words, which fill the air, and one's heart with sweetness.
It is known that one's pleasure lures.
One's yearning is persuasive.
Could she stand against so many guys?
When she is only a woman, and she is so pretty?

Should I be like the others? Shall I be like them, cunning and fake?
And attract her with a vain smile?
Should I stain the gentle and adored life of this babe
— With the shadow of a day of happiness?
And should I love like they do,
When the best part of my heart and mind are hers forever?

Oh, my life Goddess you,
Tell me: aren't you sorry, when looking at my sorrow?
Doesn't even now your heart feel pity for me?
My life nourishes from those sweet lips of yours,
And from a smile, from a word you throw kindly at me.
Lass you, is it not a peccadillo that I love you so much?

I didn't love that much even my poor mother.
And still, when they covered her remains with soil,
It seemed to me that the world is dark, that my heart may stop,
And I wanted to be placed with her in the grave…
When the church bell tolled, its bronze metal called,
"Mum, where are you? " I cried, with my mind lost.

I looked towards the bottom of her grave, and from my pitiful eyes,
My tears flowed like a river on her black coffin.
What was with me? I didn't know
Why was I left on this world, alone and without ties?
And my heart cowered, and my life was at my sleeve—
But I did not cry as much as I did for your love.

Oh, demon you, if you want my life and my soul
Why are you undecided? Why don't you ask me for them?
Why does your eye get me fooled with its transparency?
Why do you torment me so easily?
Enough with it… you better kill me, and that's it.
Shouldn't I be fed up by your words and by your smiles?

I was capable to sacrifice the memory of my mother for you.
I am so silly, because I still do everything to please your life.
It seems that you give it to me, as a present… and that I accept it
Like a blind man, or like a dog, since you see, I am skilled
To bow my head to the ground on the dust on which you've walked.

And you? You smile at me how you smile at others.
You tell me that you love me, the way you may have told others.
And I? Am I like others? You too, see in me the lover for a day?
A Don Juan, a dog that you kick and you cuddle afterward?
Oh, laugh at me, oh, yawn in front of me… you lose me.

Cold woman you, coquettish, a flatterer and devious,
You live your boredom at my ruined life's expense.
And you see how you are looked at, with passion, with desire.
And you see that the toughest man turns into your worshiper.
He kneels to the ground, with froth at his mouth,
And this seen makes you happy in your guts.

You should see that a maggot crawls at your feet
And your cold mockery shall crush it more.
Oh, how good you know what nature wanted:
When, it formed snow and diamonds from dirt.
Do you know what nature wants with your gleaming eye?
It wants us to lose heart for a smile.

Better if I didn't get to the point of knowing you.
What demon made me cross your path?
Better if I'd plucked my eyes out of my head
—Instead of slurping the venom from your eyes.
Better I'd cracked my head and perish long ago
— Instead of being a priest to such a cult.

And yet, in spite of that my darling… if I'd not seen you
Would I've had this wealth of love?
My sorrow is dear to me, because it comes from you.
And I love my folly, because I love you too.
Please hate me look at me with contempt.
You teach me with all these, to love you more.

People you. Tell me, that her face is a waxy mask
And my bitter love shall intensify, much more.
Tell me you've seen her dance and clap her hands in a brothel
And she shall seem to me an angel, with her mind full of psalms.
You can tell me all bad things about her, if you want me to lose my mind:
That she is a prostitute, a monster, she is Satan; I love her a lot!

(1876)

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