An Anthology of Czechoslovak Literature/Morning Prayer of Adam and Eve in Their Old Age

by Antonín Sova

Morning Prayer of Adam and Eve in Their Old Age

FOR our awakening we thank thee, for the smiling of morn. . . .

In old age ’tis a hundredfold blissfuller than it was in youth,
Though scantier ever. . . . Yea, for perchance the day soon comes
When the Sun no more will awaken us. . . .

Grandsons of our grandsons! Come and play at our feet,
Sunburnt as tawny lion-cubs of a glowing Eden,
In blossoms and sand plunge your bodies, your tiny arms,
In gourds draw ye the escaping well-water,
Play on your reed-flutes,
Shake bronzen discs,
Dance and be mirthful, ye sometime children of our children. . . .

Eden has not ceased to be Eden for him, who in strength
And youth made ready for life’s beginning,
That he might taste of life’s fruits. . . .

Eve, our lives are waning. . . .
Still are we in Eden. . . . We have not yet forfeited
Aught of gifts, or of beauty, or of God’s hidden love,
Still doth the tree of life with ripened fruits abound and abound
In the generations to be. . . .
Still are we in Eden. . . . The guilt didst thou fear, Eve,
Didst dream of a wrathful God, didst await the Archangel
With flamingly bright sword,—but my thoughts’ coldness and clearness
Knew that God is great, and that he is unending,
And that he fashioned the tree of life,
Not to punish therewith, but his own
Praise to intone evermore. . . .

None drove us forth that time,
When we tasted of fruits of the tree of life. . . .
Unknown to us is God’s wrath. . . . Nay, never came
Archangel with fiery sword to drive us away in awe
From the tree of life. . . .
For we are here beneath its stem, whose roots unto midmost of earth,
Whose boughs unto the heavens extend.—
As many of lives it gives, as of deaths, as many of joys as of sorrows,
As many of Abel’s offerings, as of Cain’s defiances,
Our equally beloved sons, ill-plighted sons. . . .

Yet sorrows will pass like savage tempests on the horizon,
Immense calms will pass like mute clouds,
Tears of fathers shall be dried in hopes of the newly born. . . .
As stags upraise their antlers, waxing with years,
Proudly shall yearnings be uplifted. . . .

We thank thee, we thank thee, for our grandsons’ more beauteous smiles
When their gladness sits at our feet. . . .
For glance of animals shyly halting,
For their faithful fondness. . . .·
For the chill fountain which flings itself at our feet
From silent depths of earth. . . .
For the green grass-plot whereon the shade settles
Fragrances’ coolness. . . .
For din of dark forests, hailing the distances
Of the broad world. . . .
Eden’s unendingness is spread throughout life’s length,
Behind us, before us, behind the generations, before the generations,
And meaning of our long journey,
This is the meaning of Eden. . . .

In the wake of birds’ morning song amid its unbounded silence
Since our youth we have wandered,
Unto trusty eyes of enchantment we journey throughout life,
We allure hearts unto us
As surface of waters the sun. . . .
We behold not ever the end of all our Eden,
We behold not any end to trees, glowing blossoms,
Timid, nestling animals,
Souls loving us, marvels begirding us. . . .
Human Eden hath no end, therein is no perishing of the sun,
Nor is it ever void of creatures which we engendered, once youthful,
Strong in the stormy spring-tide of strength. . . .

And now Eden seems unto us something that was long ago . . .
Bowed with old age,
Infirm with destiny, with tarrying, with death which shall come
To close our eyelids,
We shall yield to His will. . . .
Bur we know not His wrath. . . . Ne’er revealed He it unto us. . . .
Ne’er as avenger, ne’er as God warning us with flaming sword. . . .
Ne’er did He reveal Himself save mutely hidden in all things.
In beauty of life, in wild awe, in warning of decay. . . .
Ne’er did he drive us from Eden. . . . Life was beginning of death.

Begetting sons and daughters unto His glory and ours,
We did but yield eternal love
Unto life, unto death. . . .
Great is God, great is God, great is God,
Glorious and unending,
He fashioned the tree of life,
Not to punish therewith, but His own
Praise to intone evermore. . . .
Contests and Destinies (1910)