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    Словацкий (Slovak)

Z miest bežal som, kde rastie les…

Я в лес бежал из городов…

Z miest bežal som, kde rastie les,
v samote skryť sa pred davom,
k modlitbe spínam ruky dnes,
chystám sa plakať vzlykavo.

Sám so sebou som a je už čas,
keď potrebujem si oddýchnuť.
Nemilosrdný, slepý jas
mi zjedol mozog, spálil hruď.

Som lotor, hriešna nádoba,
Boh bojovať mi silu dal,
ľúbil som pravdu národa,
no rozšliapal som ideál…

Bojovať som však neskúsil,
sťa otroka ma premkol strach
a so slovami «nemám síl»
som zhasil plameň svojich snáh.

Som lotor, hriešna nádoba,
odpusť mi, Bože na nebi,
a duši v mojich útrobách
tiež odpusť, nech ťa velebí…

Sú ľudia, ktorým planie zrak,
ktorí chcú dobro, a nie zlo,
tým odovzdaj svoj svätý znak —
boj pre nich je vždy lákadlo.

Jedinú prosbu, Bože, mám,
pomôž mi v mojom súžení,
pre chorú dušu prosíkam
o pokoj nezaslúžený.


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The Forest

White trunks / were stark, suddenly, against the haze, / / Roots wound up out of the ground / like corpses’ arms. / / The leaves’ bright fire / hid giants, dwarves, lions; / / Fishermen saw in the sand / the print of a six-fingered hand. / / No French noble, n...

Bird-Girl

Early one morning / in Broseliana / a happy shepherd / drove his flock to the valley. / / They grazed, and he / piped out his happiness / on a reed / pipe. / / And suddenly, there in the branches, / he heard a voice, not a bird-call, / and saw a flame-red / bird with a ti...

The Sixth Sense

Fine is the wine that loves us, / and the bread baked for our sake, / and the woman who lies and loves us / when she’s finished her tweaking games. / / But sunset clouds, rose / in a sky turned cold, / calm like some other earth? / immortal poems? / / All inedible, non-po...

Soul and Body

1 / / Silence hangs across the city, / every tiny sound strikes flat, hollow, remote - / and you, soul, you still say nothing: / oh God, have mercy on marble souls. / / And my soul said to me, / like harps singing in the distance, / "Why did I find existence / in worthless huma...

Canzonet One

A red, feathery / fire cried / loud / in my courtyard, into the blue-black of sleep. / / A wild, sweet / wind from the moon / blew, lashed at silence, / insolently whipped its bare cheeks. / / And walking out on the mountains / the young dawn came / feeding greedy clouds / ...

Persian Miniature

When I’ve given up / playing at hide-and-seek with sour-faced / Death, the Creator will turn me / into a Persian miniature - / / With a turquoise sky / and a prince just raising / his almond eyes / to the arc of a girl’s swing, / / And a bloody-speared Shah / rush...