by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)
I'd like to hold your small hand,
— One more time at my chest.
And being curious,
I'd look straight into your eyes.
One close hug, which is
A burning and painful dream,
And then, lass-without-luck you,
I'd run away into the world.
My life shall fall apart.
I shall die forgotten by all.
It is the fate
I foresee for myself.
(1876)
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