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From “Roumanian Poems”
I. He
In the garden of my sweetheart | |
| Sing two birds beautifully, | |
| And the sun proudly shines, | |
| And my darling sits and dreams. | |
| Near the garden of my sweetheart | 5 |
| Runs a river clear and crystal | |
| Where my darling sits and weeps. | |
She
When you are here, little man, | |
| I dress all the time like a bride, | |
| Wearing flowers and pearls | 10 |
| So you will like them. | |
| Since you have gone away, little man, | |
| The red belt and the tulip have vanished— | |
| It is so sad. | |
| Green leaf of the citron: | 15 |
| My little man has gone to the army; | |
| He is gone and does not write to me, | |
| Neither on the leaves, nor on the river, | |
| Nor on the wings of the wind. | |
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II. Bad, O mother, is fever, | 20 |
| But far, far worse is love. | |
| For fever you can eat and drink, | |
| But for love there is naught but pain. | |
| From fever my mother can cure me, | |
| But love is far from her care; | 25 |
| From fever the priest can pray me, | |
| But not from the evil of love. | |
| All of us learn this evil, | |
| As did I a year from last spring. | |
| The longing is slowly killing me— | 30 |
| Yes, love is an evil thing. | |
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III. If you did not love me, little man, | |
| God shall curse you for it. | |
| You should marry nine times, | |
| And you should have nine boys. | 35 |
| You should have a girl too— | |
| She shall bring you water in prison, | |
| Because when you left me | |
| You broke my heart and my love. | |
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IV. Little man, tell me, is it true? | 40 |
| Be honest and tell me, please— | |
| Do you love me or not? | |
| If you like me only a little, | |
| Take any road that you wish, | |
| But never the one that leads to my house. | 45 |
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V. Goodbye, darling, good luck! | |
| Remain beautiful as a violet | |
| In a glass on the table. | |
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VI. Beautiful girl with blonde hair, | |
| When I see you I begin to lean | 50 |
| Like the leaves in the acacia | |
| When the wind is blowing through them. | |
| Like the leaves of the oak tree I lean | |
| When the breeze is blowing through them. | |
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VII. I had a beautiful neighbor, | 55 |
| And a path to her garden; | |
| But she went and got married | |
| And said not a word to me. | |
| I would have taken her myself! | |
| If she had married three villages away, | 60 |
| It wouldn’t have hurt me so. | |
| But she married a man down our street, | |
| The third door from my mother’s home! | |
| When I am in, I hear her voice; | |
| When I go out, I see her face: | 65 |
| It makes my heart burn like fire. | |
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