On Eminescu He is an endless spring Never touched by oblivion He is water and earth Blue skies and soul so deep He is singing birds and forests trees So many dreams or realities Rising high up, soaring immortality He loves within a dream He dreams of real love He criticizes the wrong He is proud and sings the past He makes Hyperion rise, fall, know, cry His love...of tall, white birds Who meet forever in his words His tear...a song which slides On the despair harp reaching And touching the heart strings His dream...a never accomplished bliss His world...the Beautiful, the Good, the True He stands in time for crossroads of The Present, The Future and The Past. |
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