C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
Sándor Petőfi (18231849)
Reszket a Bokor, mert
T
On it the bird hath flown!
Trembles my heart because
Into my mind hath come—
Into my mind hath come
Thought of a maiden dear!
Over the whole wide world
She’s the most precious gem!
Soon it may overflow.
So in my inmost heart
Swelleth my passion’s tide!
Lovest thou me, my rose?
Thee do I love, alone;
More than thy parents do
Thee do I fondly love.
Me thou didst love, I know:
Then ’twas warm summer-time,
Winter, cold winter’s here now!
If now no more thou lov’st,
Yet may God bless thee, dear;
But if thou lov’st me still,
Bless thee a thousandfold!