But Love shall soon burst forth like fire;
Out of the dark, the world of Soul will come,
In Youth’s conceived desire,
By friendship braced forever more.
The ice, so long unmoved, is bursting now,
With superstitions that have dimmed the light.
Hail, Dawn of Liberty! Oh, Long live Thou!
Thou carriest the Redeeming Sun so bright.
ODE TO YOUTH - DUAL POLISH AND ENGLISH TEXT
Bez serc, bez ducha — to szkieletów ludy.
No Heart, no Spirit – Lo! cadaverous crowds!
Młodości! podaj mi skrzydła!
O Youth! Pass me thy wings,
Niech nad martwym wzlecę światem
And let me o’er the dead earth soar;
W rajską dziedzinę ułudy,
Let me vanish in delusion’s clouds,
Kędy zapał tworzy cudy,
Where many the Zeal begets a wonder
Nowości potrząsa kwiatem
And grows a flower of novelty up yonder,
I obleka nadzieję w złote malowidła!...
Adorned in Hope’s enamellings.
Niechaj, kogo wiek zamroczy,
Who by his elder age shall darkened be
Chyląc ku ziemi poradlone czoło,
His toilsome forehead to the ground bent low,
Takie widzi świata koło,
Let him no more perceive or know
Jakie tępemi zakreśla oczy.
Than his thus lowered selfish eyes may see.
Młodości! ty nad poziomy
Youth! Up and over the horizons rise,
Wylatuj, a okiem słońca
And smoothly penetrate
Ludzkości całe ogromy
With Thy all-seeing eyes
Przeniknij z końca do końca!
The nations small and great.
Patrz nadół, kędy wieczna mgła zaciemia
Lo there! The space of dearth,
Obszar, gnuśności zalany odmętem:
Where putrid vapors in the chaos wrestle:
To ziemia!...
’Tis Earth!
Patrz, jak nad jej wody trupie
Up from the waters where the dead wind blows
Wzbił się jakiś płaz w skorupie:
A shell-clad Reptile rose.
Sam sobie sterem, żeglarzem, okrętem;
He is his own rudder, sailor and vessel.
Goniąc za żywiołkami drobniejszego płazu,
He often dives and rises up with little trouble,
To się wzbija, to w głąb wali;
For some smaller brutes he craves,
Nie lgnie do niego fala, ani on do fali,
The waves cleave not to him nor he to the waves;
A wtem jak bańka prysnął o szmat głazu!...
And suddenly he bumps upon a rock and bursts like a bubble.
Nikt nie znał jego życia, nie zna jego zguby:
Nobody knew his life, and of his death nobody wists.
To samoluby!
Egoists!
Młodości! tobie nektar żywota
Oh Youth! The ambrosia of life be Thine
Natenczas słodki, gdy z innymi dzielę;
When I with friends do share the time so sweet
Serca niebieskie poi wesele,
When youthful hearts at heav’nly feasting meet
Kiedy je razem nić powiąże złota.
And golden threads around them all entwine.
Razem, młodzi przyjaciele!
En masse, Young Friends!
W szczęściu wszystkiego są wszystkich cele.
In happiness our ends.
Jednością silni, rozumni szałem,
Strong in unison, reasoned in rage:
Razem, młodzi przyjaciele!...
Move on, Young Friends!
I ten szczęśliwy, kto padł wśród zawodu,
And happy he that perished in the strife
Jeżeli poległem ciałem
If for the others he’d prepared the stage
Dał innym szczebel do sławy grodu.
Of fame and honored life.
Razem, młodzi przyjaciele!
En masse, Young Friends!
Choć droga stroma i ślizka,
Though steep and icy be our path
Gwałt i słabość bronią wchodu,
Though force and frailty guard the door:
Gwałt niech się gwałtem odciska,
When force is used, with force respond and wrath;
A ze słabością łamać uczmy się za młodu!
While young, upon our frailty wage a war.
Dzieckiem w kolebce kto łeb urwał hydrze,
Who, as a child, detached foul Hydra’s head,
Młodzieńcem zdusi centaury,
In Youth, shall strangle Centaurs even;
Piekłu ofiarę wydrze,
Snatch victims from the Devil dread,
Do nieba pójdzie po laury!...
And for the laurels march to Heaven.
Tam sięgaj, gdzie wzrok nie sięga!
Up and reach the places out of sight,
Łam, czego rozum nie złamie!
Break that to which the brain can do no harm!
Młodości! orla twych lotów potęga,
Youth! Mighty as an eagle’s is Thy flight,
A jako piorun twe ramię!
As a thunderbolt – Thine arm!
Hej! ramię do ramienia! Spólnymi łańcuchy
Hey, arm to arm! by chains
Opaszmy ziemskie kolisko!
Let’s bind the earth around;
Zestrzelmy myśli w jedno ognisko
To one focus bring each sound,
I w jedno ognisko duchy!...
To one focus spirits bring and brains!
Dalej z posad, bryło świata!
Move on, Thou Clod! Leave the foundations of the world!
Nowymi cię pchniemy tory,
We’ll make Thee roll where Thou hast never rolled,
Aż opleśniałej zbywszy się kory,
When finally vanishes from Thee the mold,
Zielone przypomnisz lata.
Green years shall be once more, Thy sails unfurled.
A jako w krajach zamętu i nocy,
Since in the land of darkness and of night,
Skłóconych żywiołów waśnią,
The Elements have fallen out;
Jednem stań się z bożej mocy,
By a simple “Let there be”, due to Heaven’s might,
Świat rzeczy stanął na zrębie,
The world of things is made;
Szumią wichry, cieką głębie,
Gales are blowing, shelters give no shade,
A gwiazdy błękit rozjaśnią:
And soon the stars will brighten Heaven all about;
W krajach ludzkości jeszcze noc głucha,
While in the land of men a night so dumb,
Żywioły chęci jeszcze są w wojnie...
The elements of Will are yet at war;
Oto miłość ogniem zionie,
But Love shall soon burst forth like fire;
Wyjdzie z zamętu świat ducha,
Out of the dark, the world of Soul will come,
Młodość go pocznie na swojem łonie,
In Youth’s conceived desire,
A przyjaźń w wieczne skojarzy spojnie.
By friendship braced forever more.
Pryskają nieczułe lody
The ice, so long unmoved, is bursting now,
I przesądy światło ćmiące.
With superstitions that have dimmed the light.
Witaj, jutrzenko swobody,
Hail, Dawn of Liberty! Oh, Long live Thou!
Zbawienia za tobą słońce!...
Thou carriest the Redeeming Sun so bright.
THE CRIMEAN SONNETS
Translated by Edna Worthley Underwood
This series of eigh
teen sonnets constitutes an artistic telling of a journey through the Crimea. The Crimean Sonnets were published in 1826 and demonstrate Mickiewicz’ interest in the Orient, shared by many of the students of the University of Vilnius. Involuntarily residing in Russia, Mickiewicz left Odessa and went on a journey that turned into a trek to another world, his first initiation into “the East”. The Crimean Sonnets offer romantic descriptions of the oriental nature and culture of the East, as well as revealing the despair of the poet — a pilgrim, an exile longing for the homeland, driven from his home by a violent enemy.
South coast of Crimea, visited by Mickiewicz from February to November 1825
CONTENTS
THE ACKERMAN STEPPE
BECALMED
MOUNTAINS FROM THE KESLOV STEPPE
BAKTSCHI SERAI
BAKTSCHI SERAI BY NIGHT
THE GRAVE OF COUNTESS POTOCKA
THE GRAVES OF THE HAREM
BAYDARY
ALUSHTA BY DAY
ALUSHTA BY NIGHT
TSCHATIR DAGH
TSCHATIR DAGH
THE PASS ACROSS THE ABYSS IN THE TSCHUFUT-KALE
(MIRZA)
THE RUINS OF BALACLAVA
ON JUDA’S CLIFF
THE RENEGADE
THE ACKERMAN STEPPE
Across sea-meadows measureless I go,
My wagon sinking under grass so tall
The flowery petals in foam on me fall,
And blossom-isles float by I do not know.
No pathway can the deepening twilight show;
I seek the beckoning stars which sailors call,
And watch the clouds. What lies there brightening all?
The Dneister’s, the steppe-ocean’s evening glow!
The silence! I can hear far flight of cranes —
So far the eyes of eagle could not reach —
And bees and blossoms speaking each to each;
The serpent slipping adown grassy lanes;
From my far home if word could come to me! —
Yet none will come. On, o’er the meadow-sea!
BECALMED
The flag is listless, limp. It dances not.
As deep the sea breathes from a gentle breast
As any bride who dreams at love’s behest,
And wakes and sighs, then casts with dreams her lot.
Sails hang upon the masts — useless — forgot —
Like folded standards which the warriors wrest
And bring home broken from the battle’s crest.
The sailors rest them in some sheltered spot.
O Sea! within your unknown deeps concealed,
When storms are wild, your monsters dream and sleep,
And all their cruelty for the sunlight keep.
Thus, Soul of Mine, in your sad deeps concealed
The monsters sleep — when wild are storms. They start
From out some blue sky’s peace to seize my heart.
MOUNTAINS FROM THE KESLOV STEPPE
(Pilgrim)
What would Great Allah with the frozen sea?
Would he of icy clouds a throne carve bright,
Or would the demons of the deepest night
A bar build where the shining stars sweep free?
It gleams like pagan cities fired, kings flee.
When Day was anciently destroyed by Night
Did Allah amid chaos fix this light
To guide the star-worlds of eternity?
(Mirza)
Up there I’ve journeyed where the winter reigns,
And seen the rivers bitten black like lines
On Tschatir Dagh, where the white cloud reclines,
Which not the wildest eagle’s shadow stains,
Where cradled under me the thunders sleep
And Allah and the stars their watches keep.
BAKTSCHI SERAI
In ruin are the spacious, splendid halls
With frozen forest of white columns where
The Tartar Khan his palace builded fair,
Where loneliest the shrilling cricket calls.
The ivy blackens over shining walls
Enscribing in gigantic letters there
Some curse Belshazzar-like: Beware! Beware! —
Then black as crèpe from crested columns falls.
Within the burnished banquet room there sings
The fountain of the harem pure and clear,
Just as of old it sang in twilights drear.
But whither love and fame speed — on what wings?
When all things else must perish these endure!
Yet both are gone! The fountain ripples pure.
BAKTSCHI SERAI BY NIGHT
From out the mosques the pious wend their way;
Muezzin voices tremble through the night;
Within the sky the pallid King of Light
Wraps silvered ermine round him while he may,
And Heaven’s harem greets its star array.
One lone white cloud rests in the azure height —
A veiled court lady in some sorrow’s plight —
Whom cruel love and day have cast away.
The mosques stand there; and here tall cypress trees;
There — mountains, towering, black as demons frown,
Which Lucifer in rage from God cast down.
Like sword blades lightning flickers over these,
And on an Arab steed the wild Khan rides
Who goes to Baktschi Serai which night hides.
THE GRAVE OF COUNTESS POTOCKA
In Spring of love and life, My Polish Rose,
You faded and forgot the joy of youth;
Bright butterfly, it brushed you, then left ruth
Of bitter memory that stings and glows.
O Stars! that seek a path my northland knows,
How dare you now on Poland shine forsooth,
When she who loved you and lent you her youth
Sleeps where beneath the wind the long grass blows?
Alone, My Polish Rose, I die, like you.
Beside your grave a while pray let me rest
With other wanderers at some grief’s behest.
The tongue of Poland by your grave rings true.
High-hearted, now a young boy past it goes,
Of you it is he sings, My Polish Rose.
THE GRAVES OF THE HAREM
They sleep well here whom Allah loved and kept
And treasured in his vineyard fair and fine,
Most lustrous of the Orient pearls that shine,
Which youth found where the waves of passion swept.
Here, where in peace perpetual they have slept,
A turban beckons where the roses twine,
A banner flutters out in silken line,
And sometimes here a Giaour’s name is kept.
Oh! roses of this paradise of old,
The eyes that loved not Allah saw you not,
Nor arms that prayed not eastward could enfold!
But now a Christian treads this hallowed spot;
Wise Allah, curse not him who bows his head
Amid the marble shrines of Allah’s dead!
BAYDARY
Give wings unto the storm, and spurs to steed,
I’d move unchained as wind across the world,
Sweep onward like a torrent mountain-hurled,
Nor sea, nor height, nor valley pause to heed.
The twilight spreads a dimness o’er our speed,
And shows the diamond-stars from hoofs up-whirled,
Since daylight now her curtained blue has juried,
And mystery and magic shadows breed.
The earth sleeps, but not I — not I — not I —
Who hasten to the shore where waves are loud
And toward me in the darkness whitely crowd.
Beneath them I would still my soul’s deep cry —
Like ships the whirlpools seize to drag to death —
I’d plunge within the silence, sans thoug
ht, breath.
ALUSHTA BY DAY
The mighty mountain flings its mist-veil down;
With little flowers the gracious fields are bright,
And from the forest colors flash to sight
Like gems that drop from off a Calif’s crown.
Upon the meadows settles shimmering down
A band of butterflies in rainbow flight;
Cicadas call and call in day’s delight,
And bees are dreaming in a blossom’s crown.
The waves beneath the cliff are thunder-pale,
Now upward, upward in their rage they rise
And tawny are their crests as tigers’ eyes.
The sun is focused on one white, far sail
And on blue, shining deeps as smooth as glass
Wherein slim cranes are shadowed as they pass.
ALUSHTA BY NIGHT
The drooping, weary day night pushed aside;
On Tschatir Dagh the sullen sun and low
Paints phantom purple upon ancient snow;
While forest ways within, the wanderers hide.
Night veils the mountains and the valleys wide;
The thunderous brooks are dream-held, dulled, and slow;
Beneath the blackness fragrant flowers blow
And rich leaf-music clothes each valley side.
Almost my waking eyes are dream-held too;
With gold a meteor marks the deep-domed sky
And fountain-like the fiery sparks float by.
Oh! Beauty of the Eastern Night, you woo
My spirit like the odalisque, who held
Men captive till her kiss the dream dispelled!
TSCHATIR DAGH
(Mirza)
The reverent Mussulman bends low to greet
You, Tschatir Dagh, Crimea’s bright-masted ship!
World-altar, — minaret — the place where dip
Down stairs from golden Heaven for the feet!
You guard the door of God in splendor meet,
Like Gabriel with holy sword on hip;
In bright mist mantled from the toe to lip,
Tour turban set with alien stars and sweet.
If winter rule the world, or summer’s sun,
If Giaour rage about, or winds are wild,
Above them, Tschatir Dagh, you, changeless one,
Are like to Allah, pure and undefiled;
Aloft you tower from out the lowly sod
To give to men again the will of God.
Adam Mickiewicz Collected Poetical Works Page 2