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 withA spirit the world has maimed; weakenedBy lies and overworked, until its sightHas 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 ofYour womb—your love. O home of everlastingTruth, where traitors arm had never reached,O Mother, without asking who or what,Leadest man into thy loving bosom; justOne moment in its resting calm dispelsAll pain, the chains of bondage drop and allOur sorrow ceases. Just one whisper ofThe forest, just one melody of mountainFall and my soul is lifted upward andMy spirit is beside itself with joy.New hope releaves my slavery, heart throbs areReborn; one circle of the eagle, justOne falcon’s dizzy flight, just one shrill whistleIn the silent forest and a single flashOf camp fire in the night, and then my soulIs gripped by freedom, flickering, flashing intoTongues, flying on high with wings of lightLike meteors of the night. One moment, likeThe motion of a hair when in the wind,The vision may be mine, to see the secretChambers 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 boldAre 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 lullabyTo give his hunting grounds the last good-by.It is the law of life-to spring, to bloomAnd go to its salvation or its doom.

By Charles J. Heitzman:

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.
We two gave the world all its laughter.It must not know that not long after
It is asleep, your laugh becomes the wailingOf 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.
They must not know that while they sleepWe, 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.

—Mackay: Procrastination.

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