Thursday, January 15, 2026

One Last Longing (One Last Wish) - aka "Mai Am Un Singur Dor" -- Mihai Eminescu

It's been a while since I did a translations, but recently I've been reminded how short and fragile life is. That we all face the inevitable at some point, yet the "inevitable" is only a passing back to where we came from. And all we eventually ask for is a "clear sky"

Oh, if only Eminescu wrote in a different language than Romanian, Byron, Shelley and Keats would have had serious competition!!!





















Mai Am Un Singur Dor        One Last Wish

Mai am un singur dor:

În liniștea serii

Să mă lăsați să mor

La marginea mării;


Să-mi fie somnul lin

Și codrul aproape,

Pe-ntinsele ape

Să am un cer senin.


Nu-mi trebuie flamuri,

Nu voi sicriu bogat,

Ci-mi împletiți un pat

Din tinere ramuri.


Și nime-n urma mea

Nu-mi plângă la creștet,

Doar toamna glas să dea

Frunzișului veșted.


Pe când cu zgomot cad

Izvoarele-ntruna,

Alunece luna

Prin vârfuri lungi de brad.


Pătrunză talanga

Al serii rece vânt,

Deasupră-mi teiul sfânt

Să-și scuture creanga.


Cum n-oi mai fi pribeag

De-atunci înainte,

M-or troieni cu drag

Aduceri aminte.


Luceferi, ce răsar

Din umbră de cetini,

Fiindu-mi prieteni,

O să-mi zâmbească iar.


Va geme de patemi

Al mării aspru cânt...

Ci eu voi fi pământ

În singurătate-mi.

I have but one last plea:

When evening falls, tranquill,

Just let me die beside the sea,

Where all is calm and still.


Let sleep come soft and deep,

With forest close at hand,

And o’er waters wide and steep,

A cloudless sky expand.


No flags need fly for me,

No costly coffin bought,

But weave a bed beneath a tree

Of young green branches wrought.


And let no one behind me

Weep at my silent head,

Let autumn's voice remind me

Of withered leaves instead.


While streams with endless sound

Come tumbling down the hill,

Let moonlight drift around

The tall firs, silver-still.


Let evening's cold wind bring

The distant bell's refrain,

And let the holy linden swing

Its branches o’er me again.


No longer shall I roam

Wanderer from that day,

And memories, with love, shall come

And snow me where I lay.


The Evening Stars shall rise

From shadows of the fir,

And, like old friends in distant skies,

Will smile at me once more.


The sea shall moan with pain,

Its rough song filled with woe...

But I shall be earth again,

Alone, and still, below.