The Murmur of the Forest by Mihai Eminescu :
On the pond bright sparks are falling,Wavelets in the sunlight glisten;Gazing on the woods with rapture,Do I let my spirit captureDrowsiness, and lie and listen… Quails are calling.All the silent water sleepingOf the streams and of the rivers;Only where the sun is shiningThousand circles there designingAs with fright its surface shivers, Swiftly leaping.Pipe the birds midst woods concealing,Which of us their language guessing?Birds of endless kinds and racesChirp amidst its leafy placesAnd what wisdom they expressing And what feeling.Asks the cuckoo: ,,Who has seenOur beloved summer idol,Beautiful beyond all praisingThrough her languid lashes gazing,Our most lovely, tender, bridal, Forest queen?”Bends the lime wiyh gentle careHer sweet body to embower;In the breeze his branches singingLift her in their arms upswinging,While a hundred blossoms shower On her hair.Asks the brooklet as it flows,, Where has gone my lovely lady?She, who evening hour beguiling,In my silver surface smiling,Broke its mirror deep and shady With her toes?”I replied: ,,O forest, sheComes no more, no more returning!Only you, great oaks, still dreamingViolet eyes, like flowers gleaming,That the summer through were yearning Just for me.”Happy then, alone we twain,Through the forest brush-wood striding!Sweet enchanted tale of wonderThat the darkness broke asunder…Dear, wherever you’d be hiding, Come again!