Three-Line Song Poem by Peter Mamara

by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)

Stretching your hand, you gently looked at it.
You moved smiling your red lips,
Whispering softly, like in a dream, lots of sweet words.

And my ear was probing, so it could hear them,
Barely meaningful words, yet full of meaning,
In the way the ancient poets had listened to the muse.

I could read so much dissent in your eye,
So sweet a pain of your suffering,
Since I've gathered them all in my heart.

The sweetest of your words,
It is the pipe-dream chaos of your thoughts.
Your smile is like your silence.

And your body, which is in a voluptuous pose,
I included it fully and clearly into my song.
When you've passed on your heart to me.

You are now in charge over my thought and my breath.
And this song that we see just getting finished,
You can keep it, and only you can finish it.

If you allow me to present my poem,
Like I have bestowed my life to you:
Then, the hatred and the swear words of anyone,

You should accept with a smile, sweet woman you.

(1876)

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