Mihai Eminescu‘ poem: Eve On The Hill
Dreary the horn sounds in the eve on the hill,
Sheep flocks return, stars on their way twinkle still,
Water springs weep murmuring clear, and I see
Under an acacia tree, love, thou art waiting for me.
Holy and pure passes the moon on the sky,
Moist seem the stars born from the vault clear and high,
Longing thine eyes look from afar to divine,
Heaving thy breast, pensive thy head doth recline.
Cornfields bright flooded with beams by the clouds steeply drifted,
Old cottage gables of thatch to the moonlight uplifted,
The tall wooden arm of the well in the wind softly grating,
And the shepherd-boy’s pipe from the sheep-pen sad doina relating.
Ah! very soon quietness steals over all,
Ah! very soon hasten shall I to thy call,
Under the acacia tree, there I shall sit the whole night,
Telling thee, love, thou art my only delight.
Cheek press’d to cheek, there in sweet ecstasy we,
Falling asleep under the old locust-tree,
Smiling in dream, seem in a heaven to live,
For such a night who his whole life would not give?