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English language
Limba Romana
Without 'tis autumn, the wind beats on the pane
With heavy drops, the leaves high upwards sweep.
You take old letters from a crumpled heap,
And in one hour have lived your life again.

Musing, in this sweet wise the moments creep;
You pray no caller will your door attain;
Better it is when dreary falls the rain
To dream before the fire I awaiting sleep.

And thus alone, reclining in my chair,
The fairy Dochia's tale comes to my mind
While round me haze is gathering in the air.

Then softly down the passage footsteps wind,
Faint, sound of rustling silk upon the stair...
And now my eyes cold, tapering fingers bind.

Translated by

Corneliu M. Popescu
Afara-i toamna, frunza imprastiata,
Iar vintul zvirle-n geamuri grele picuri;
Si tu citesti scrisori din roase plicuri
Si intr-un ceas gindesti la viata toata.

Pierzindu-ti timpul tau cu dulci nimicuri,
N-ai vrea ca nime-n usa ta sa bata;
Dar si mai bine-i, cind, afara-i zloata,
Sa stai visind la foc, de somn sa picuri.

Si eu astfel ma uit din jet pe ginduri,
Visez la basmul vechi al zinei Dochii;
In juru-mi ceata creste rinduri-rinduri;

Deodat-aud fosnirea unei rochii,
Un moale pas abia atins de scinduri...
Iar miini subtiri si reci mi-acopar ochii.

1879, 1 dec.

Mihail Eminescu
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