Page:Poems (Eminescu).pdf/46



Thou goest and through years of suff’ring For thee will long my dreary eyes, Of all thy being’s charms enamour’d, For thy sweet smile my spirit sighs.

My love’s not mild like tales of fairies, My love so painful tears my breast, And O thy soul is but a demon In beauteous form of marble dressed!

Thy face has all the charms of pallor, And moist and sparkling is thine eye, With coaxing looks thou art so thrilling, So full of wiles, so roguish, sly.

And when thou touchest me I quiver, And when I hear thy steps I start, Thy trembling lashes’ charm for ever Enthralls my life, my throbbing heart.

Thou goest and I shall no longer With deep regret for past days mourn, No more a victim, will no longer My heart with ruthless pain be torn.

And in my ear thy burning whisper My ravished mind no longer woos, Thy hand no longer smooths my forehead, To make me all my wits to lose.