Page:Czecho-Slovak Student Life, Volume 18.djvu/25
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STUDENT LIFE
19
Translated by Ivan Kramoris:
GREETING.
From Hviezdoslav’s “Hájníkova žena”.
I greet you wood and forest, I greet you with
A spirit the world has maimed; weakened
By lies and overworked, until its sight
Has waned. ’Tis you, O whispering greens,
Who will restore to life and resurrect,
Bedew and heal the festering wound;
Who will bestow on us the treasures of
Your womb—your love. O home of everlasting
Truth, where traitors arm had never reached,
O Mother, without asking who or what,
Leadest man into thy loving bosom; just
One moment in its resting calm dispels
All pain, the chains of bondage drop and all
Our sorrow ceases. Just one whisper of
The forest, just one melody of mountain
Fall and my soul is lifted upward and
My spirit is beside itself with joy.
New hope releaves my slavery, heart throbs are
Reborn; one circle of the eagle, just
One falcon’s dizzy flight, just one shrill whistle
In the silent forest and a single flash
Of camp fire in the night, and then my soul
Is gripped by freedom, flickering, flashing into
Tongues, flying on high with wings of light
Like meteors of the night. One moment, like
The motion of a hair when in the wind,
The vision may be mine, to see the secret
Chambers of wood and forest. Friends, I greet you.
A spirit the world has maimed; weakened
By lies and overworked, until its sight
Has waned. ’Tis you, O whispering greens,
Who will restore to life and resurrect,
Bedew and heal the festering wound;
Who will bestow on us the treasures of
Your womb—your love. O home of everlasting
Truth, where traitors arm had never reached,
O Mother, without asking who or what,
Leadest man into thy loving bosom; just
One moment in its resting calm dispels
All pain, the chains of bondage drop and all
Our sorrow ceases. Just one whisper of
The forest, just one melody of mountain
Fall and my soul is lifted upward and
My spirit is beside itself with joy.
New hope releaves my slavery, heart throbs are
Reborn; one circle of the eagle, just
One falcon’s dizzy flight, just one shrill whistle
In the silent forest and a single flash
Of camp fire in the night, and then my soul
Is gripped by freedom, flickering, flashing into
Tongues, flying on high with wings of light
Like meteors of the night. One moment, like
The motion of a hair when in the wind,
The vision may be mine, to see the secret
Chambers of wood and forest. Friends, I greet you.
By Ivan Kramoris:
Fall.
’Tis fall-the bright green hues are turned to gold,
And ev’n the mites that in summer were bold
Are hushed; their cries of life are hear’d no more.
The ant, the fruit of work laid by in store,
Is huddled and sleeps, content in some tree’s core.
The bird, once more sings his lullaby
To give his hunting grounds the last good-by.
It is the law of life-to spring, to bloom
And go to its salvation or its doom.
And ev’n the mites that in summer were bold
Are hushed; their cries of life are hear’d no more.
The ant, the fruit of work laid by in store,
Is huddled and sleeps, content in some tree’s core.
The bird, once more sings his lullaby
To give his hunting grounds the last good-by.
It is the law of life-to spring, to bloom
And go to its salvation or its doom.
THE JESTER TO THE BROOK.
We two must laugh. You must laugh with me,
While men’s eyes are on us, while men can see.
While men’s eyes are on us, while men can see.
We two gave the world all its laughter.
It must not know that not long after
It must not know that not long after
It is asleep, your laugh becomes the wailing
Of a soul that’s sick, of a heart that is ailing. . . .
Of a soul that’s sick, of a heart that is ailing. . . .
They must not know, they who lie abed,
That I laugh with my lips, that my heart is dead.
That I laugh with my lips, that my heart is dead.
They must not know that while they sleep
We, who taught them laughter,—weep.
We, who taught them laughter,—weep.
If those to whom we owe a debt
Are harmed unless we pay,
When shall we struggle to be just?
To-day, my friend, to-day.
Are harmed unless we pay,
When shall we struggle to be just?
To-day, my friend, to-day.
—Mackay: Procrastination.