• ro
  • en
  • de
  • Ode (in ancient meter)

    Hardly had I thought I should learn to perish;
    Ever young, enwrapped in my robe I wandered,
    Raising dreamy eyes to the star styled often
    Solitude’s symbol.

    All at once, however, you crossed my pathway –
    Suffering – you, painfully sweet, yet torture…
    To the lees I drank the delight of dying –
    Pitiless torment.

    Sadly racked, I’m burning alive like Nessus,
    Or like Hercules by his garment poisoned;
    Nor can I extinguish my flames with every
    Billow of oceans.

    By my own illusion consumed I’m wailing,
    On my own grim pyre in flames I’m melting…
    Can I hope to rise again like the Phoenix
    Bird from the ashes?

    May all tempting eyes vanish from my pathway,
    Come back to my breast, you indifferent sorrow!
    So that I may quietly die, restore me
    To my own being!


    Translated by Andrei Bantas