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Come to the forest spring where wavelets
Trembling o'er the pebbles glide
And the drooping willow branches
Its secluded threshold hide.

Eagerly your arms outstreching,
Hurry dear to my embrace,
That the breeze your hair will gather
And uplift it from your face.

On my knees you will be seated
Just we two alone, alone
While upon your curls disordered
Are the lime-tree's blossoms strown.

Forehead pale and tresses golden
On my shoulder you incline,
And your lip's delicious plunder
Raise up willingly to mine.

We will dream a dream of fairies
Rocked by secret lullaby,
Which the lovely spring is chanting
And the winds that wander by.

Midst that harmony thus sleeping
Woodland tales our thoughts enthrall,
And upon our bodies softly
Do the lime-trees petal fall.

English version by Corneliu M. Popescu
Transcribed by Octavian Rachieru
School No. 10, Focsani, Romania

© Mihai Eminescu