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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=589710" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Mortua est</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A torch watching closely the sad and wet tomb,<br>A bell chiming harshly in this holy gloom,<br>A dream which is dipping its wing in the gall<br>That's how you have traveled beyond the world's wall. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">You've passed when the sky is a field of delight,<br>With rivers of sweet milk and flowers of light,<br>When castles of black clouds are hiding the sun <br>And moon, the fair queen, visits them one by one. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">You are like the silver that catches the eye,<br>With wings elevated you soar to the sky,<br>The clouds airy scaffold you climb, pale white soul,<br>Through showers of sun rays, the stars are your goal. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A ray takes you higher, a song leads your quest,<br>Your arms, white and tender, are crossed on your chest,<br>When loud is the spinning of spells everywhere,<br>There's silver in waters and gold in the air. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Your pure, candid soul through heaven is rolled;<br>I watch your remains... just dust white and cold, <br>Attired in clothes in coffin they sleep<br>I look at your smile, still lively and deep – </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And quickly I'm asking my poor injured soul,<br>How come you died angel and death took his toll?<br>Are you not the youngster who offered delight?<br>You've gone to extinguish a star shining bright?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But up there in heaven are castles it seems<br>With vaults made of fine gold and walls of star beams,<br>With bridges of silver and streams, which flames bring,<br>With banks full of myrrh trees and flowers that sing; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They're waiting for your steps, O, dear holy queen,<br>With hair made of sun rays and eyes bright and clean,<br>Dressed up in a blue dress – a gold spotted gown,<br>And wearing on your head a thin laurel crown. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O, death is a chaos, an ocean of stars<br>While life is a puddle of dreams and of scars;<br>O, death is an epoch embroidered with suns<br>While life is a story so ugly that stuns – </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or maybe my thinking is stormy and void<br>The good thoughts I cherish are quickly destroyed...<br>When all suns are dying and stars fall on earth<br>I'll come to believe that the world isn't worth. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The high vault of heaven may crash and lose might,<br>The nothingness maybe will bring its long night,<br>I may see the dark sky, its worlds out of breath,<br>Which are easy prey to perpetual death. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And if it were so... my thinking runs rife,<br>Your warm, feeble breathing won't come back to life,<br>Your voice sweet and sounding will hush in dismay,<br>So, this lovely angel was made out of clay. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And yet, my dead dust and beautiful queen,<br>Against your dark coffin my hoarse harp I lean;<br>I don't cry for your death, but happy I say<br>That you left the chaos and went far away. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I stand here and wonder, which one better goes,<br>To be or to not be... but anyone knows<br>That what's non-existent cannot feel the pain,<br>There are many hardships, few pleasures remain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">To be? It's sad madness and empty and wry<br>Your eyes are deceiving, your ears always lie;<br>An age teaches something, which others disdain,<br>So better have nothing than hoping in vain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I see dreams embodied, which chase other dreams,<br>But each one in graveyard will give up its needs,<br>My thinking is hazy and all thoughts are frail,<br>Shall I laugh like crazy? Or curse them or wail?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But then, for what reason? There's madness throughout<br>How come, pretty angel, you had to die out?<br>Has this world a meaning? O, dear smiling face<br>You lived just for dying? An awful disgrace;<br>If this has a meaning, it's just a facade,<br>Because on your forehead it's not written God.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Mihai+Eminescu">Mihai Eminescu</a>, translated by Octavian Cocoş<div class=q>
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