Page:Poems (Eminescu).pdf/22

 In this springtime, on the gardens, on the blossoms fragrant, tender, On the beautiful, wide landscape, sheds the moon her quiet splendour! She from deep night of remembrance countless longings doth recall, Soothing endless pains and sorrows, now in dreams we feel them all, To our own thought’s world she opens wide and large an entrance door. Raising round us endless shadows, marvels of the dark before… Deserts vast and lonely glisten ’neath thy clear light, purest maid, And the sparkling spring that’s hidden far away in forest glade! On how many countless billows doth thy power hold its sway, When thou glidest forth on ocean’s moving solitary way, And o’er all of us abiding under fate’s grand, awful might, Sways alike grim death’s great genius and the ray of thy pure light!