Cupid, dreadfully spoiled rascal,
Many a hoax stored in his head,
With the children romps and scampers,
With the ladies sleeps in bed.
From the daylight like a brigand
He will take great pains to hide;
But at dark he’ll try your window
And if it’s open slip inside.
Bits of string and bows and arrows
That’s of what his wealth is made.
Generous when no one needs him,
Stingy should you ask his aid.
Late at night he’ll rob your bookcase,
Read some volume doctrinaire,
And maybe between the pages
Find a thread of golden hair.
With strange thoughts, they cannot master,
Does he lead young minds astray;
Then before a lighted icon
All night long he’ll kneel and pray.
Oft some little girl in whispers
Does in him her soul confide,
And all night they sleep together
Like two pigeons side by side.
Petulant he is and heartless,
Winsome too, and full of guile,
And his eyes will sometimes sparkle
Roguish as a widow’s smile.
Graceful throat and rounded shoulder,
Here where maiden breast expands,
He will take a double armful
And will hide it with his hands.
While if you should beg him nicely,
Quite enough a scamp is he
Just to part the veil a little
And a moment let you see.
Translated by Corneliu M. Popescu