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English language
Limba Romana
Down where the lonely poplars grow
How often I have erred;
My steps that all the neighbours know
You only have not heard.

Towards your window lighted through
How oft my gaze has flown;
A world entire my secret knew
You only have not known.

A word, a murmur of reply
How often did I prey !
What matters then if I should die,
Enough to live that day;

To know one hour of tenderness,
One hour of lovers’ night;
To hear your whisper’s soft caress
One hour then come what might !

Had you but granted me a glance
That was not filed with scorn,
Out of it’s shining radiance
A new star had been born.

You would have lived through lives untold
Beyond the ends of time;
O deity with arms so cold,
O marble form sublime !

An idol of some pagan lore
As now no more is seen,
Come down to us from times of yore,
From times that long have been.

My worship was of ages gone,
Sad eyes by faith beguiled,
Each generation handed on 
From father unto child.

But now I very little care
To walk along that lane,
Nor heed the face I found so fair
Looks out for me in vain;

For you are like them all today
In bearing and in guise,
And I but look on your display
With cold and lifeless eyes.

You should have known to value right
With wondering intent,
And lit your candela at night
To Love that God has sent.

Translated by

Corneliu M. Popescu
Pe langa plopii fără sot
Adesea am trecut;
Mă cunosteau vecinii toti-
Tu nu mai cunoscut.

La geamul tau ce stralucea
Privii atât de des;
O lume toata-ntelegea-
Tu nu mai inteles.

De cate ori am asteptat
O soapta de raspuns!
O zi din viata să-mi fi dat,
O zi mi-era de-ajuns;

O ora să fi fost amici,
Să ne iubim cu dor,
S-ascult de glasul gurii mici
O ora, si să mor.

Dandu-mi din ochiul tau senin
O raza dinadins,
In calea timpilor ce vin
O stea s-ar fi aprins;

Ai fi trait în veci de veci 
Si randuri de vieti,
Cu ale tale brate reci
Inmarmureai maret,

Un chip de-a pururi adorat
Cum nu mai au perechi
Acele zane ce strabat
Din timpurile vechi.

Căci te iubeam cu ochi pagani
Si plini de suferinti,
Ce mi-i lasara din batrani
Părintii din părinti.

Azi nici macar îmi pare rău
Ca trec cu mult mai rar,
Ca cu tristeta capul tau
Se-ntoarce în zadar,

Căci azi le semeni tuturor
La umbra si la port,
Si te privesc nepasator
C-un rece ochi de mort.

Tu trebuia să te cuprinzi
De acel farmec sfant,
Si noaptea candela s-aprinzi
Iubirii pe pământ.

1883, 28 August / 9 Sept

Mihail Eminescu
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