PROLOGUE TO SLAVA’S DAUGHTER
(Excerpts)
Here lies this ancestral land before my saddened tear-dimmed eyes,
My nation’s cradle once, today its burial casket.
Withhold your steps! For hallowed is the ground you tread upon.
To the heavens raise your eyes, Tatra’s bewildered son;
Or better, cling with all might to yonder aged oak
That weathered the ravage of time unto this very day.
More cruel than time is a man who raises a punishing hand
To strike you fair Slavia, within your own domain.
Yea, worse than destructive wars, more destructive than tempest or flame
Is one who blinded with hate, plots evil against own kin.
Oh aged epochs of yore, spread all around like the night,
Oh suffering, ancient lands, scenes of both glory and shame!
From Labe’s treacherous shores to where the Vistula flows,
From the Danube’s verdant banks to where the Baltic foams.
Where echoed the mellow words of courageous peaceful Slavs
Now lifeless and mute this voice, a victim of envy and hate.
Who is to blame for these crimes that cry to the heavens above?
Who in assaulting one, insulted all nations and men?
Blush envious Teuton whose lands bordered the homes of the Slavs,
Your hands are stained with the guilt of these most callous crimes.
*****
Where are your dwellings today, Slav nations who peopled these lands?
Who drank of the distant sea, or yon, where the Saale flows?
Where are you peaceful Sorbs, descendants of Abodrite tribes?
Where are the ancient Vilcs, grandchildren of the Uckers of old?
I gaze to the right, far and wide, then leftward I cast my eyes,
But in vain I search for Slavs in these hoary Slavic lands.
Tell me oh tree, who has served as their natural sacred shrine,
Beneath whose crown they burnt offerings to ancient Gods,
Where are these nations today? Where are their rulers and towns?
Where are they who engendered life in these barren lands of the North?
*****
Henceforth be stilled oh grief! Toward the future direct your gaze!
With hopeful, sunlit eyes dispel the clouds of your thought.
There is no greater vice than to bemoan one’s misfortune and loss.
Much better fares he whose deeds quiet the angered Gods.
Hope rises from active hands, not from a saddened eye,
Apparent evil may oft be turned to some needed good.
Though a man may be easily swayed, all men cannot be misled;
The blunders and errors of a few, are oft for the good of the whole.
Time changes all, even time; to victory it leads the Truth.
The errors of blundering ages one fleeting moment may change.
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