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Romanticism
MY TESTAMENT
by Julisz Slowacki
I lived with you, I grieved, and many a tear I shed,
I never did a gentle noble soul defy.
Now it is time for me to go and join the dead.
Seems like it’s joy I leave on earth − so sad am I.
To my inheritance on earth I leave no heir,
Nor to this lute of mine nor even to my name;
My name has but dashed through much like a lightening glare,
For aye it shall remain an empty sound and tame.
But you that knew me well, in you reports convey
That all my younger years were for my country spent:
While battle raged at mast I stood, be as it may,
And with the ship I drowned, when vanquished down she went.
But he − that may reflect upon the detriment
Of my poor land − will, if a noble soul, defend it
That my mind’s mantle was no drab for beggars meant,
But with the splendor of my ancient fathers splendid
Oh that my friends at night together gathered be,
And this sad heart of mine in leaves of aloe burn!
And give it then to her who’s given it to me.
Thus mothers are repaid: with ashes in the urn.
Oh that my friends around a goblet sit once more,
And drink unto my funeral and their poor lot.
Be I a ghost, I will appear and join them or
If God may spare me pain and torture − I shall not.
But I beseech you − there’s still hope while there is breath.
Do lead the nation with a wisdom’s torch held high,
And one by one, if needed be, go right to death,
As God’s-hurled stones that densely over ramparts fly.
And as for me, I leave behind a group of friends,
Who for my haughty heart much love did have and room.
I did the God’s hard service, now the duty ends,
And I agree to have and unlamented tomb.
Who else would like to try, without the world’s applause,
Unto the world displaying but indifference,
To be a helmsman in a boat of ghosts − as I was −
And then as lightly as a ghost to vanish hence?
But after me remains, howe’er, the fateful force
That, of no use in life, adorned my forehead tall;
But it will press you when I die, without remorse,
So that, bread-eaters, you become sheer angles all.
IN VERONA
by Cyprian Kamil Norwid
1
Above the house o’the Capulets and Montagues,
The gentle eye of all the spacious skies now views,
By thunder whipped and washed with rain — — ?
2
The lonesome ruins of the two adverse estates,
The once so splendid, now demolished, garden gates;
And casts a star from the heav’nly plain — —
3
The cypress says that this must be for Juliet
And Romeo, the tear that falls from high to get
Into the tombs and soak them more.
4
But many people, in a sagely fashion, say
That it is rocks and stones not tears that fall today,
And that they are not waited for!
UPON THE ALPS IN SPLÜNGEN
by Adam Mickiewicz
So never, never may I fare thee well:
Thou followest me be it a mount or dell,
I see thee on the Alpine glaciers tall,
I hear thy voice in every waterfall;
My heart throbs heav’ly when I turn around
To see thy face, though fear to hear a sound.
Ungrateful one! While in these mountains high
I lose my way beneath the somber sky
Or weary so, walk down a mountain slope,
I raise my head toward the skies and hope
To see the Northern Star that guideth me,
To find Lithuania, thy house and thee.
Ungrateful one! Perhaps today a queen
In a company that I have never seen.
Perhaps enchanted by new loves, in play,
Of our passed love recountest thou today.
Say, art thou happy at this time at all
When servants bow at thy, Milady, call,
When pleasure lulls thee now to sleep at night,
Or when thou playest in the morning light?
Wouldst thou be happy if thou shared’st thy life
With a merry traveler and wert his wife.
My dear, we would be hiking all day long,
Thy hardship I would sweeten with a song;
I’d be the first in every rivulet
To find some little stones therein and let
Thy feet, untouched by water, feel the sand.
I would caress thee, kiss thy gentle hand.
And we would find some lovely mountain hut,
I’d let thee off my back, the door I’d shut;
We’d sit by a fire and thou with elfin charm
Wouldst fall asleep and wake upon my arm.
DEFEND ME AGAINST MYSELF
by Adam Mickiewicz
Defend me against myself, thou hast the might.
Sometimes thy books I see with a transparent light
As sun peers through the mist that doth appear
To us as gold - to sun ‘tis darkness sheer.
But man outdoes the sun, he knows too well
This golden veil but in his eyes doth dwell.
I’m looking in thy eyes, thou look’st at me
I grasp both thy right hands, stand next to thee
And cry aloud: “Reveal the mystery”.
Prove now thy strength or do admit this hour
We’er equal both in wisdom and in power.
Thou knowest not the season of thy birth:
Do people know when they appeared on earth?
Thou play’st, explorest thou thy self so vast;
And what do people do? – research their past.
Thy wisdom, even, cannot solve thy case:
And can we, people, know the human race?
Art thou alone immortal? Are we not?
And Thou hast not thyself. Have we thee got?
Thou knowest not thy end, but notice, please,
We know not either when we come to a cease.
Thou canst divide thyself and then unite:
We can divide at day and join at night.
Thou art so various – our thoughts apart;
But thou art one and we are one at heart.
Thou: great in Heaven, we watch the starry motions;
Thou rulest the waters, we explore the oceans.
Oh, thou whose shining does not rise or set,
What is it thou has got we cannot get.
On Earth, in Heaven fightest thou the devil,
And we are still at war with this world’s evil.
Thou worest the form of men, so say the sages:
Was that for a while or hadst thou one since ages?
