A #poem I liked in #russian so I made this. I chose the #words that stood out to me. The whole poem: he Bard My friends, can you descry that mound of earth Above clear waters in the shade of trees? You can just hear the babbling spring against the bank; You can just feel a breeze thats wafting in the leaves; A wreath and lyre hang upon the boughs... Alas, my friends! This moundss a grave; Here earth conceals the ashes of a bard; Poor bard! A gentle soul, a simple heart He was a sojourner in the world; Hed barely bloomed, yet lost his taste for life He craved his end with yearning and excitement; And early on he met his end, He found the graves desired sleep. Your time was but a moment - a moment sad Poor bard! He sang with tenderness of friendship to his friend, - His loyal friend cut down in his lifes bloom; He sang of love - but in a doleful voice; Alas! Of love he knew naught but its woe; Now all has met with its demise, Your soul partakes of peace eternal; You slumber in your silent grave, Poor bard! Here, by this stream one eventide He sang his doleful farewell song: O lovely world, where blossomed I in vain; Farewell forever; with a soul deceived For happiness I waited - but my dreams have died; Alls perished; lyre, be still; To your serene abode, o haste, Poor bard! Whats life, when charm is lacking? To know of bliss, with all the spirits striving, Only to see oneself cut off by an abyss; Each moment to desire and yet fear desiring... O refuge of vexatious hearts, O grave, sure path to peace, When will you call to your embrace The poor bard? The bards no more ... his lyres silent... All trace of him has disappeared from here; The hills and valleys mourn; And all is still ... save zephyrs soft, That stir the faded wreath, And waft betimes above the grave, A woeful lyre responds: Poor bard! © A. Wachtel, I. Kutik and M. Denner russianpoetry.net
Posted on: Tue, 25 Mar 2014 15:08:17 +0000
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