menu Letters Testimonies Critiques Biography Home Bibliography


Fair love, our mutual friend, took wing,
That is the reason why
My melancholy song must sing
To all the world goodbye.


Frail memory's cold fingertips
Will shut the past away,
That it no more shall cross my lips,
Nor through my spirit stray.


Now many a murmuring of streams,
How many starlit flowers,
How many, many lover's dreams
I've buried with the hours.


To what unfathomed depth unknown
Had they their roots in me;
And, wetted by my tears, have grown,
Beloved one, for thee.


Through what sad torment did they rear,
Their blossoms to fulfil;
And o how sorry am I, dear,
That I don't suffer still.


But you are now for ever gone,
Death called you very far;
And those gay eyes that glory shone
Now full of darkness are.



Your wistfully enchanted smile
Did somehow know, it seem,
To make of dream real life a while,
And out of life a dream.


And now I feel that you must dwell
Where the moon brightly lights
That country which the legends tell
Of thousand and one nights.


Love's mystery was too complete,
Too gentle and too strong;
A dream too wonderfully sweet
That it could last for long.


Maybe too much an angel you,
Too little just a girl,
That this strange ecstasy we knew
Its wings so soon should furl.


Too much dear one both you,
In love's embrace were blind;
Too much forgot the lord on high,
Too much forgot mankind.


Maybe indeed there is no room
In a world filled with distress,
Midst so much grief, and so much gloom,
For so much happiness.

(Translated by Corneliu M. Popescu)

<< (back to Literary Work)
letters testimonies critiques biography main page bibliography