The Forest's Commotion Poem by Peter Mamara

by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

Pounding, the lake sparkles,
And it moves its waves under the sun.
I look at it from the woods
I let my exhaustion carry me away,
And from the place that is cool
I listen to the song of the quail.

It seems the water fell asleep
In springs and streams,
On which the sun shines
Through tree branches,
But it splashes in undisturbed waves.

The cuckoo, ouzels, and buntings sing.
Who knows how to listen to them?
All bird-kind chirp
Hidden in branches of trees,
And they chat about so many things.

Cuckoo bird asks: " Where is
The sister of our summer's dreams
Swift and much-loved,
With her gaze tired?
She shall emerge all of a sudden
— Like a goddess, for everyone.

The old linden tree has sprawled
A shoot so the cuckoo bird can twist it.
The young shoot grows quicker
And try to grab the cuckoo bird,
And flowers shall fall on them.

The water spring asks itself:
Where could my Queen be?
She shall undo her soft hair
And shall look over my waters.
And shall touch me with her feet.

I answered: Dear woods,
She doesn't come. She will never come.
Oak trees: you shall stay only by yourselves
And dream of her blue eye
That gleamed all summer for me.

How nice it was in the thickets
When her and I, became mates…
It was an enchanted tale that today is painful.
Come back again from where you are.
So just you and I can be there.

(1879 October 1)

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