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What is Love

What is love ? A lifetime spent
Of days that pain does fill,
That thousand tears can't content,
But asks for tears still.

With but a little glance coquet
Your soul it knows to tie,
That of its spell you can't forget
Until the day you die.

Upon your threshold does it stand,
In every nook conspire,
That you may whisper hand in hand
Your tale of heart's aspire.

Till fades the very earth and sky,
Your heart completely broken,
And all the world hangs on a sigh,
A word but partly spoken.

It follows you for weeks and weeks
And in your soul assembles
The memory of blushing cheeks
And eyelash fair that trembles.

It comes to you a sudden ray
As though of starlight's spending,
How many and many a time each day
And every night unending.

For of your life has fate decreed
That pain shall it enfold,
As does the clinging water-weed
About a swimmer hold.

poem by Mihai Eminescu
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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