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English language
Limba Romana
When death did not exist, nor yet eternity,
Before the seed of life had first set living free,
When yesterday was nothing, and time had not begun,
And one included all things, and all was less than one,
When sun and moon and sky, the stars, the spinning earth
Were still part of the things that had not come to birth
And You quite lonely stood... I ask myself with awe,
Who is this mighty God we bow ourselves before.

Ere yet the Gods existed already He was God
And out of endless water with fire the lightning shed;
He gave the Gods their reason, and joy to earth did bring,
He brought to man forgiveness, and set salvation's spring.
Lift up your hearts in worship, a song of praise en freeing,
He is the death of dying, the primal birth of being.

To him I owe my eyes that I can see the dawn,
To him I owe my heart wherein is pity born;
When ever I hear the tempest, I hear him pass along
Midst multitude of voices raised in a holy song,
And yet of his great mercy I beg still one behest:
That I at last be taken to his eternal rest.

Be curses on the fellow who would my praise acclaim.
But blessings upon him who does my soul defame;
Believe no matter whom who slanders my renown,
Give power to the arm that lifts to strike me down
Let him upon the earth above all others loom
Who steals away the stone that lies upon my tomb.

Hunted by humanity, let me my whole life fly
Until I feel from weeping my very eyes are dry;
Let everyone detest me no matter where I go,
Until from persecution myself I do not know;
Let misery and horror my heart transform to stone,
That I may hate my mother, in whose love I have grown;
Till hating and deceiving for me with love will vie,
And I forget my suffering, and learn at last to die.

Dishonoured let me perish, an outcast among men;
My body less than worthy to block the gutter then,
And may, o God of mercy, a crown of diamonds wear
The one who gives my heart the hungry dogs to tear,
While for the one who in my face does callous fling a cloud
In your eternal kingdom reserve a place, o God.

Thus only, gracious Father, can I requitance give
That you from your great bounty vouched me the joy to live
To gain eternal blessings my head I do not bow,
But rather ask that you in hating compassion show.
Till comes at last the evening, your breath will mine efface,
And into endless nothing I go, and leave no trace.

Translated by

Corneliu M. Popescu
Pe când nu era moarte, nimic nemuritor,
Nici samburul luminii de viata datator,
Nu era azi, nici mane, nici ieri, nici totdeuna
Căci unul erau toate si totul era una,
Pe când pamantul, cerul, vazduhul, lumea toata
Erau din randul celor ce n-au fost niciodata,
Pe-atunci erai Tu singur, incat mă-ntreb în sine-mi
Au cine-i zeul carui plecam a noastre inemi?

El singur zeu statut-a 'nainte de-a fi zeii
Si din noian de ape puteri a dat scanteii
El zeilor da suflet si lumii fericire
El este-al omenimei izvor de mantuire.
Sus inimile voatre, cantare aduceti-i!
El este moartea mortii si invierea vietii!

Si el îmi dete ochii să vad lumina zilei 
Si inima-mi umplut-au cu farmecele milei,
Din vuietul de vanturi auzit-am al lui mers
Si-n glas purtat de ape simtii duiosu-i viers
Si tot pe lang-acestea cersesc inc-un adaos
Să-ngaduie intrarea-mi în vesnicul repaos.

Să blesteme pe-oricine de mine-o avea mila
Să binecuvanteze pe cel ce mă impila,
S-asculte orice gura ce-ar vrea ca să mă rada,
Puteri să puie-n bratul ce-ar sta să mă ucida
Si-acela dintre oameni ajunga cel dintai
Ce mi-ar rapi chiar piatra ce-oi pune-o capatai.

Gonit de toata lumea prin anii mei să trec,
Pan' ce-oi simti ca ochiu-mi de lacrime e sec,
Ca-n orice om din lume un dusman mi se naste,
C-ajung pe mine insumi a nu mă mai cunoaste
Ca chinul si durerea simtirea-mi a-mpietrit-o,
Ca pot să-mi blestem mama, pe care am iubit-o,
Când ura cea mai crunta mi s-ar parea amor,
Poate-oi uita durerea-mi si voi putea să mor.

Strain si far' de lege de voi muri, atunce
Nevrednicu-mi cadavru în ulita l-arunce
Si-aceluia, Parinte, să-i dai coroana scumpa
Ce-o să asmuta cainii ca inima-mi s-o rumpa,
Si-acela ce cu pietre mă va izbi în fata,
Indura-te, stapane, si da-i pe veci viata.

Astfel numai, Parinte, eu pot să-ti multumesc 
Ca tu mi-ai dat în lume norocul să traiesc.
Să cer a tale daruri genunchi si frunte nu plec,
Spre ura si blestemuri as vrea să te induplec,
Să simt ca de suflarea-ti suflarea mea se curma
Si-n stingerea eterna dispar fără de urma.

1879, 1 sept.

Mihail Eminescu
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