Page:Poems (Eminescu).pdf/17

 Pursued by all and hunted shall pass away my years

Till they will have exhausted the fountain of my tears,

Till I shall feel that each man for me is but a foe,

Till my own self thus hated by all I shall not know,

Till endless pain and anguish my heart have so oppressed

That I may curse my mother whom I, of all, loved best—

When utmost cruel hatred like love seems to my eye,

My suffering forgetting, perhaps I might then die.

And if, by all accursèd, I die a stranger, they

Upon the street my body to dogs shall throw away,

And him who sets them on me, that they may tear my heart,

O him, my gracious Father, the highest crown impart,

And him who stones will on me with hatred throw, O give

My Lord, that he in glory eternally may live!

Thus only can I, Father, sing praises thanking Thee,

That graciously Thou gavest this earthly boon to me.

I do not bend my forehead for other gifts, Thy ire,

Thy curses and Thy hatred are all that I desire,

To feel how disappearing my breath by Thine is quelled,

And in the night eternal I traceless am dispelled.

The midnight hour of sorrow on brazen bell doth toll,

And sleep, life’s toll-collector, comes not to take the toll.

On roads so often trodden Death wants to lead for aye,

And Life and Death comparing, which is the best to weigh;

But now my reason’s balance unchangèd still doth stand,

For ’tween them both is fixèd, unmoved the pointing hand.