An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry/Eclogue

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For works with similar titles, see Eclogue.

ECLOGUE

 

The air is steeped in scent of berries, and 'tis crystal-clear around,
How the moss is palpitating underneath thy tread!
And from the rushes strains like unto melodies of flutes resound,
A gleaming rain of blossoms from the hawthorn bush is shed.
Thou askest—joylul tears within thine eye,
"Why is this, O why?"
On high
The bird speaks, at thy foot the blossom of the field,
"Only thus can all Spring's wonders be revealed."

Thy breath is sweet with scent of berries, crystal-clear thine eye is gleaming,
How thy bosom 'neath the pressure of my hand doth thrill!

From my heart the fervour-laden strains of melody come streaming,
Even as from a craggy rock there pours a pearly rill.
Thou askest—tender tears within thine eye,
"Why is this—O why?"
On high
The bird speaks, at thy foot the blossom of the field,
"Only thus can all Love's wonders be revealed."

 

"Eclogues and Songs" (1880).