Page:The Czechoslovak Review, vol4, 1920.pdf/259

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THE CZECHOSLOVAK REVIEW
231

The Water King[1]

By KAREL JAROMÍR ERBEN.

Translated by Dr. Jos. Štýbr.

I.
O’er the lake in old gray willows
Sat the green man of the billows:
“Shine, dear moonlight, shine
On my sewing twine!

“A new pair of boots I’m sewing
For dry walks and water rowing:
Shine, dear moonlight, shine
On my sewing twine!

“This is Thursday; Friday morning
In my new coat I’ll be turning:
Shine, dear moonlight, shine
On my sewing twine!

“With green cloths, red boots, I’m heading
Sure to-morrow for my wedding:
Shine, dear moonlight, shine
On my sewing twine!”

II.
On morning early rose a maid
And, gathering the cloths, she said:
“I shall go, mother, to the lake
And wash the clothes as day will break.”

“O daughter dear, stay home, don’t take
The cloths this morning to the lake!
Ill dreamt I this night as I lay—
Avoid the water, child, to-day!

“White pearls picked I for you at night
And dressed you, dear child, all in white;
Like sea-foam did your white skirt sway
Avoid the water, child, to-day!

“White dresses do for mourning stand,
Pearls likewise only tears portend,
And Friday’s an unlucky day—
Avoid the water, child, to-day!”

But the young daughter has no rest;
The lake to-day is her sole quest;
The lake lures and seems to invite;
At home in nought she finds delight.—

But one white kerchief did she soak
When under her the frail plank broke,
And after the young pretty girl
The water closed in a swift whirl.

The water waved with rippling sound
And spread wide circles far around,
And in the willows by the rocks
His hands clapped the man with green lock

III.
Sad and cheerless, full of gloom
Are the water regions
Where in grass ’neath lilies white
Minnows play in legions.

Here warm sun-rays never reach,
Never waft the breezes;
Cold and still—as hopeless grief
When the heart it seizes.

Sad and cheerless, full of gloom
Are the wet deep hollows;
In half-dark and in half-light
Day goes and day follows.

The court of the Water King,
Vast and full of treasures,
But guests stop here unwilling
And find but scant pleasures.

And who through its crystal gate
Once the court will enter
On him hardly ever more
His friends’ eyes will center.—


  1. The subject of this poem is an old Czech legend of a wizard (in the original, “Vodník”), lurking in lakes, ponds, rivers and deep pools of the brooks and luring in his victims whom he either drowns, keeping their souls stored in cups under lids, or changes into water animals, plants, stones or other subjects.—The translatir.