|
Poems Without Frontiers
After Despair
Welcome! Night of rest and repose. Day has run its course and yields to the gathering gloom. Trees sighing in the evening breeze bring whispers of the night And starlings wheel in the dusk before nightingales entertain. Gentle breezes and balmy airs Bring refreshment for the anxious soul And infants sleep with scarce a murmur Safe from night's preying eyes. Sweet odours of honeysuckle and musk roses Embrace the earth with portents of dreams And red tinted clouds descending from the heavens Signal calm night and bright tomorrow. Day fades into night And angels abound to ensure safe haven from any raging storm As I await the joyful beams streaking the eastern sky. But, are those branches tapping at the window beckoning me To dark regions where nought but crags and sombre forests lurk? Enticing me to distant eternal dreams Where time ceases its flow and existence is suspended? Bleak, black, brooding night, the destination of all beings, Calls beguilingly with promise of rest profound Where I can slip from worldly cares with no prospect of return And there to contemplate eternity Holding no agitated discourse more. To descend unending steps into the abyss of all opportunities foregone Where souls reflect upon the world in a repose of ages Nevermore to emerge from oblivion Without hope or prospect that If night follow day Day will follow night. No flight of swans will grace the azure skies Or snow peaked mountain tops tower over distant meadowland. No sound of childrens' play Nor sight of upturned lover's face. No sound of steeple bells Or of voices uplifted in choral devotion. Nought but decay and taste of dust in a crumbling sepulchre Pursued by demons whilst ravens fly. Will the sun rise again, will light return? Will there be dawn for me? What judgements will be cast? What assessments heaped upon my life? Will there be roses on my grave Or will ivy grow around the yew? No! I shall not go easily before my term: Time's scythe and Charon's oar must wait. Henceforth, my idle thoughts will be applied And my days transformed by labour. I shall build towers filled with sunlight And send argosies voyaging to new continents. Let there be music and sweet harmony! Let flowers bloom! I shall sound trumpets from the depths of oak woods, Plant orchards to honour and nurture spring And ride fine horses through blossoming pastures Brandishing a sword of gold. Therefore, send messengers into the wilderness proclaiming that, A candle glowed in one small corner of the world and life revived Rejoicing in new found freedom uncaring now of draining sands.
Pas un vol de cygne n'embellira le ciel d'azur,
Non! Je ne partirai pas si facilement avant mon terme
Traduction: © Gabrielle Laye
Nach Verzweiflung
Willkommen! Nacht der Rast und der Ruhe. Der Tag hat seinen Lauf vollendet und weicht der zunehmenden Düsterkeit. Bäume seufzen in der Abendbrise und bringen Flüstern der Nacht mit, Während Sperlinge in der Dämmerung kreisen, bevor Nachtigallen unterhalten. Sanfte Brisen und linde Lüfte Bringen Erfrischung für die besorgte Seele Und Säuglinge schlafen mit kaum einem Laut Versichert von den quälenden Augen der Nacht. Süße Düfte des Geißblatts und der Moschusrose Umarmen die Erde mit den Zeichen der Träume Und rotgetönte Wolken, die vom Himmel herunterschreiten Melden ruhige Nacht und heller Morgen Tag schwindet zur Nacht Und Engeln im Überfluss versichern einen guten Hafen vom jeden tobenden Sturm, Als ich die Freudenstrahlen erwarte, die den östlichen Himmel streifen
Aber winken jene Äste mir, die an mein Fenster klopfen,
Nein! Ich werde nicht leicht vor meinem Zeitraum gehen
Übersetzung: © David Paley Poetry in Translation
|