M. Eminescu - Poesii / Poems

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DOINA		DOINA
From Tisa to the Nistru's tide All Romania's people cried That they could no longer stir For the rabbled foreigner. From Hotin down to the sea Rides the Muscal cavalry; From the sea back to Hotin Nothing but their host is seen; While from Dorna to Boian Seems the plague has spread its ban; Leaving on our land a scar That you scarcely know it more. Up the mountains down the dale, Have our foes flung far their trail. From Sacele to Satmar Only foreign lords there are; While Roumanians one and all Like the crab must backwards crawl. And reversed is everything: Spring for them is no more spring, Summer is no longer summer, They, at home, the foreign comer. From Turnu up to Dorohoi Does the alien horde deploy And our fertile fields enjoy. With their rumbling trains they come Making all our voices dumb, And our birds so much affray That in haste they fly away. Nothing now but withered thorn Does the Christian's hearth adorn. And the smiling earth they smother; Forest-good Romanian brother - You too bend before their tide, And the very springs they've dried. Sad is this our countryside. Who has sent them to these parts, May the dogs eat out their hearts; May the night their homes efface, And with them this shameless race. Stephen, mighty emperor, You in Putna reign no more. While his holy Prelacy Guards alone the monastery, Where the priests in fervent prayer Of the saints take pious care. Let them toll the bells away, All the night and all the day, And the gracious Lord invoke That he come and save your folk ! Stephen rise up from the ground, And your battle trumpet sound All Moldavia gathered round. Blow your trumpet just one blare, All Moldavia will be there; Let your trumpet blazed two That the forests follow you; Let your trumpet blazed three, That our foes demolished be From the mountains to the sea, That the crows may hear their knell And the gallows-tree as well. Translated by Corneliu M. Popescu		De la Nistru pan' la Tissa Tot Romanul plansu-mi-s'a, Ca nu mai poate strabate De-atata strainatate. Din Hotin si pan la Mare Vin Muscalii de-a calare, De la Mare la Hotin Mereu calea ne-o atin; Din Boian la Vatra-Dornii Au umplut omida cornii, Si strainul te tot paste De nu te mai poti cunoaste. Sus la munte, jos pe vale Si-au facut dusmanii cale, Din Satmar pan' in Sacele Numai vaduri ca acele. Vai de biet Roman saracul! Indarat tot da ca racul, Nici ii merge, nici se 'ndeamna, Nici ii este toamna, toamna, Nici e vara vara lui, Si-i strain in tara lui. De la Turnu 'n Dorohoi Curg dusmanii in puhoi Si s'aseaza pe la noi; Toate cantecele pier, Sboara paserile toate De neagra strainatate; Numai umbra spinului La usa crestinului. Isi desbraca tara sinul, Codrul - frate cu Romanul - De secure se tot pleaca Si isvoarele ii seaca - Sarac in tara sarac! Cine-au indragit strainii, Manca-i-ar inima cainii, Manca-i-ar casa pustia, Si neamul nemernicia! Stefane Maria Ta, Tu la Putna nu mai sta, Las' Archimandritului Toata grija schitului, Lasa grija Sfintilor In seama parintilor, Clopotele sa le traga Ziua 'ntreaga, noaptea 'ntreata, Doar s'a 'ndura Dumnezeu, Ca sa 'ti mantui neamul tau! Tu te 'nalta din mormant, Sa te aud din corn sunand Si Moldova adunand. De-i suna din corn odata, Ai s'aduni Moldova toata, De-I suna de doua ori, Iti vin codri 'n ajutor, De-i suna a treia oara Toti dusmanii or sa piara Din hotara in hotara - Indragi-i-ar ciorile Si spanzuratorile! (data necunoscuta) Mihail Eminescu
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