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22
FRANCIS FALUDI.
DANGERS OF LOVE.
Nem leszek többe szerelmes.
To Love no more my vows I'll bring,
For Love is such a dangerous thing;
There's poison hid in every dart,
And canker-worms in every heart,
Where Love doth dwell.
I know the little treacherous boy—
Have fought beneath his flag with joy,
Which brought deep grief: I've worn his chain,
And wasted many months of pain,
In his dark cell.
For she who loves bears doom of woe;
Let her not trust the traitor's bow
Which I have trusted, just to be
Pierced through and through with misery,
With misery.
O forest trees! so tall that are;
O dovelet mine! that flies so far;
Would I could fell that giant grove!
Would I could reach that flitting dove![1]
It may not be!
- ↑ Ha azt az erdőt le vághatnám
Galambomat meg láthatnám.
Vagni, to hew, to fell—vaghatni, to be able to hew. Latni, to see—lathatni, to be able to see.
