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Prince Charming from the linden

– Blanca, even from the cradle
Your groom is the God above
For you're born, my wretched baby
Of a wrong, unworthy love.

In the monastery Ste. Anna
You will find the holy grace
For your soul, which is resentful,
For the saving of my face.

– I'm not willing, my dear father,
To seclude my happy soul:
I love hunting, I love dancing;
Let the world follow its goal.

I don't want to lose my tresses,
Which are hanging to the ground,
To go blind reading old pages
With pale incense smoke around.

– I know better what is needed,
Leave the world and carry on,
To the monastery tomorrow
We shall leave at early dawn.

Hearing this, she cries in silence,
Thinks to run away from home,
Carried by bizarre ideas,
By an eagerness to roam.

So, she goes to her white stallion,
Takes it out on the large track.
Strokes it on the mane, while crying,
Puts the saddle on its back.

Jumps on it and off she's going,
Her hair loose, her head inclined,
Doesn't look ahead with courage,
Doesn't look at all behind.

On the trails lost in the valley
Through the woods tries to evade
When the red rays of the evening
In the west begin to fade.

Here and there the gloomy shadow
Glimmers with some streaks of light...
She is passing through the thickets,
Bees are buzzing in the night;

In the middle of the forest
Near the linden old and tall,
Hears a spring gurgling so charming
And responds to its sweet call.

But the murmur of the waters
Makes her startle with great force
And she sees a young man sitting
On a black and noble horse.

With his eyes he's staring fixedly
Lets himself by dreams be borne,
In his hair has linden blossoms,
On his hip a silver horn.

When he blows it nice and gently,
Charm and pain rise in the air –
She can feel her love is growing
For that stranger young and fair.

And his hair touches her tresses,
So, she blushes and she sighs
Lowering her long eyelashes
Over her becoming eyes.

On her lips a smile is rising,
Charming like a graceful dove,
Which is opening abruptly
Her mouth yearning for sweet love.

When in ecstasy she's carried
She leans over, has no choice,
The horn stops and remains silent,
And he speaks with languid voice,

Then embraces her while mounted –
She pretends to fight a lot,
Yet, she gives up shortly after,
Feels her heart is very hot.

And she rests on his strong shoulder
Looking to the sky above;
While the horses graze around them
She is watching him with love.

Only the delightful murmur
Of the cold and charming spring
Deafens with melancholia
The two drunken souls, which sing.

From the woods the moon is rising
And the night looks at its glow,
How it paints long and dark shadows
On the plain as white as snow.

And it makes them even longer
Then it moves them in the sky,
But they get lost in the forest
Saying to the world goodbye.

At the castle's gate, the stallion,
Tired after such a race,
Has returned, but its sweet mistress
Has gone leaving back no trace.

poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoș
Added by anonym
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