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O'ER THE WOODS		PESTE VARFURI
O'er the woods the moon's afloat, Leaves move softly in-the breeze, Midst the branching alder trees Sounds the horn its plaintive note.. Farther through the forest deep, Farther yet, and yet more faint, Blows again its sweet complaint, Promise of eternal sleep. While my heart to you is born Why does fade away your sound? Will you once for me resound Melancholy hunter's horn? Translated by Corneliu M. Popescu		Peste virfuri trece luna, Codru-si bate frunza lin, Dintre ramuri de arin Melancolic cornul suna. Mai departe, mai departe, Mai încet, tot mai încet, Sufletu-mi nemingiiet Indulcind cu dor de moarte. De ce taci, când fermecata Inima-mi spre tine-ntorn ? Mai suna-vei dulce corn, Pentru mine vreodata ? 1883, dec. Mihail Eminescu
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