HOW MANY A STAR BURNS…
How many a star burns in the firmament,
How many a wave the sea before her
throws,
Gleaming and sparkling fair, yet no man
knows
What may their meaning be, or their
intent.
Thus, you may choose the way your footsteps went;
High or low though be the path you
chose,
The selfsame dust, the selfsame earth
will close
Your heritage in time's oblivion spent.
I seem to die, and near the shadowed gate,
With funeral dirge and flickering
tapers set,
The men who are to bear my body wait.
O, pleasant shade, come near, come nearer yet,
That I may know thee, lord of death's
estate,
With tall black wings and drooping
lashes wet.
English
version by Corneliu M. Popescu
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