What a sad soul (Ce suflet trist - Mihai Eminescu

What a sad soul have gifted me
My parents from their own
That so many torments have found
Room in this self alone?

What a sad and purposeless soul
Made of such sluggish clay
That after so many dismays
It can still hope in vain?

How does it yet not feel accursed
Always my needs to haul?
Oh, billows of the holy sea,
Take me into your foam!

Added by: vasysm

Translator: Vasile Andreica
Language: English


see more poems written by: Mihai Eminescu



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