Classic Poem

( ROUMANIAN )

" M IORA , dearest lamb of mine,
Why wilt thou starve thyself and pine?
These three long days thou dost not eat
Or juicy grass or clover sweet."

" 'Tis that thy friends, for greed and spite,
Intend to murder thee this night,
Dear master. O then fly away
Into the wood." " Miora, nay.

" But charge thou them to lay me by
This wattled fold, where I may lie
And hear my bleating lambs deplore,
And true dogs barking evermore.

" And on my grassy grave be laid
The three fair flutes myself have made
Of linden-wood, whose tones prevail
Against the lark and nightingale.

" In the sweet hollow flutes at eve
The wind melodiously will grieve,
And all my lambs will hear and think
Of him who gave them food and drink.

" But if my mother come this way,
Seeking for me, then must thou say,
To a far country did he fare,
And wed a monarch's daughter there."