European Elegies/Spring/Death, the reaper

​

68.DEATH, THE REAPER

Flowers in the flush of sunrise,
Starring the meadowy lawns,
Fresh in their fecund beauty,
Sweet in the dewy dawns,
Wither and waste in a moment
Cut by the scythe's keen knife;
Gay jewelled petals perish—
Emblems of human life.

Death is the master mower,
Swift is the scythe's fell sweep
Swung by his unseen fingers,
Reaper of all who reap.
Grasses and flowers together
Fall to him as he goes,
Ruthless to rank stalks ripening
And to the soft new rose.


From the Icelandic of Hallgrimur Pétursson.

This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.