by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)
Oh, crying I count.
It tolls midnight.
The hour of ending relationships
Beats accurately.
Good-bye, this precious now.
The moon's clear disk
Shows fully
— Through branches of tall trees.
I hardly let go of you arm.
Being sad, I almost not leave.
You walk ahead of me
— As a gentle apparition.
Day and night you're on my mind.
I think of you, all the time.
My beautiful and gentle darling
Whom, I adore so much.
You should hear how brooks
Wash their beds.
And how a soothing
And heartbreaking horn sounds.
(1876)
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