Jump to content

An Anthology of Czechoslovak Literature/The Morning Wind

From Wikisource
For other English-language translations of this work, see The Morning Wind (Sova).
Antonín Sova4867028An Anthology of Czechoslovak Literature — The Morning Wind1929Paul Selver

The Morning Wind

PLAYFULLY it arose above moist meadows
Beside living mountain-waters . . .
By cottages it dallied with bared heads of children,
Fair, curly-locked, winsome . . .
It fingered lilac and jasmine, roses and corn-ears,
Bespattered birds with dew, crinkled the grass upon tombs,
Unloosened ripples of fish-ponds in silvery cadences . . .

To be unleashed, unleashed, unleashed,
Was its smothered morning prayer . . .

Soon sated with play, idyllic and peaceful,
It dreamed of strength. . . . To be unleashed, unleashed.
Amain to shrill through earth’s miles, convoyed by swarthy clouds . . .
Dreamily to descend, asudden to dart upwards,
Above ridges of dark forests, where stags mournfully troat,
Even above murder in sequestered covert. . . .

Was this then the self-same one, which, born early amid blossoms
Amid stillness of a fragrant valley,
Toyed with green tops of pine-trees
And passionately fondled tiny birds’-nests,—
Was this then the self-same one, which murdered at evening?

Was this then the self-same one, which gently stroked tresses
And glowing faces, white and slender hands,
Whose fingers vied with it as they fluttered over piano-keys?
Was this then the self-same one, which turmoiled at evening?

Was this then the self-same one, at whose wafting halls were opened, thronging
With young bodies serried together,
Gardens freshly breathed, fragrance-laden, lamp-lights flickered
Swayingly upon sand-bestrewn pathways,
Weather-vanes sighed upon old towers,
And delicate music drifted through open balconies of green cottages? . . .
Was this then the self-same one, which now ranted at nightfall?

Behold: Wildly now it blusters in the stormy evening . . .
Has rended giant tree-trunks, flung nests to the earth,
Has trampled on clay hovels, with husky voice of horror
Has intoned an elemental song. . . .

Assuredly it was the one . . . which, before gentle, refreshing,
Which seemed to seek strains of seraphic harps,
Murdered at evening . . .
Gentle souls! Gentle souls! Gentlest souls !
Shall I remember that even ye, dreaming of your beauty and power,
One day will murder, frenziedly murder?
Morning and Evening Meditations (1920)

 This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.

Original:

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1931.


The longest-living author of this work died in 1928, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 97 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.

Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse

Translation:

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1931.


The longest-living author of this work died in 1970, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 55 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.

Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse