Collected Works of Johan Ludvig Runeberg
Page 36
“Boy, why griev’st thou there? Be comforted!
With a seed, spring in the fields displayeth,
Drop of rain, that from the snowdrift strayeth,
With my bride a love-note to afford,
Am I rich, blessed, happy as the Lord.” —
Say, poor sparrow, are wings to me given,
Like thyself, to fly from earth to heaven?
Have I voice, like thee, for love? beside,
And the worst of all, — have I a bride?
XXXVIII.
THE DREAM.
ON the bed I laid me down aweary,
To forget in sleep regret and sorrow;
But a dream stole softly to my pillow,
And into my ear it thus did whisper:
Wake, for she is here the lovely maiden,
Look up that thou mayst receive her kisses.
And my eye I cast up then with gladness.
Where’s the dream? It like to smoke has vanished:
Where’s the maid? far off o’er land and water:
Where’s the kiss? Ah, only in my longing!
XXXIX.
THE DISREGARDED ONE.
EAR by ear rocks in the wheat-field,
Grain by grain in the ear is hiding,
So, each fleeting word thou utteredst,
Waxeth in my faithful bosom.
Cruel youth, and most ungrateful!
Tillers go to save their harvests,
Thou dost only sow, and leavest
To the birds of air the reaping,
To the snows and to the wind-blasts.
XL.
THE FLOWER-DEALER.
FOUR years old the boy was sitting
On the strand beside his sister,
Cut of bark a ship with rigging,
Freighted then the ship with flowers,
Hired a crew of ants to man it,
And said to the ants’ commander:
“Put to sea now, dauntless sailor;
Sail off then; return anon and
Sell on yonder strand my cargo,
Some for gold, and some for pearls, and
Some for other pretty playthings.”
Stroked his yellow locks the sister,
Drew a sigh, and spoke as follows:
“Child of four years old, thou sellest
Flowers that harmless grace the seaboard,
When to twenty-four thou reachest,
Thou wilt barter faithful bosoms,
Some for gold, and some for pearls, and
Some for other pretty playthings.”
XLI.
GRIEF AND JOY.
GRIEF and joy together
In my heart abided,
Grief within one chamber,
Joy within the other,
Both unreconciled.
Now the one bore sway there,
Now the other wholly.
Since the one love came there,
She the door has opened,
And the twain appeased.
For my grief is bliss now,
And my joy is sadness.
XLII.
BUTTERFLY POST.
AT the opened arbour window
Sat one summer morn a maiden;
But from flowers in fields surrounding
Came a butterfly goldwingéd,
Sat upon the maiden’s tresses.
Shut she straight the window; caught and
Tried to tame the butterfly then.
“Fly not forth, thou pretty prisoner,
Feast on kisses, take caresses,
On the hand remain thou quiet!”
Vainly! each time she released him,
Flew he fluttering ‘gainst the window;
Touched at length by his disquiet,
Oped the pretty maid the window:
“Fly thou forth, ungrateful, fly thou,
To thy like bear thou this message:
Bid them not to care to come here,
When they never care to tarry.”
XLIII.
TROUBLE NOT THE MAIDEN’S SOUL.
By the brook the maiden sat,
And within it washed her feet,
Sang a bird above her thus:
“Trouble not the brooklet, maid,
No more see I there the sky.”
Turned the maiden up her eye,
And with tearful look she spoke:
“Grieve not for the brooklet, thou,
That will soon be clear again.
Once when thou beheldest me
Standing here beside a youth,
Sooth, thou should’st have said to him:
“Trouble not the maiden’s soul,
It will ne’er be clear again,
Ne’er reflect the heaven more.”
XLIV.
THE SUMMER NIGHT.
ON the still lake’s waters carried,
All one summer night I tarried,
Thoughtless to the billows’ crew there
From the boat my line I threw there.
On the shore a thrush was chanting,
Till for breath he nigh was panting;
And I spoke thus half offended:
“Better that thy beak were bended
Underneath thy wing, for glaring
Day thy notes and sallies sparing.”
And I heard him bold replying:
“Let alone the rod thou’rt plying,
Saw’st thou high o’er land and mere too,
Thou would’st sing all night long here, too.”
And I lifted up mine eye then,
Light was earth and light the sky then.
Sky and strand and wave displayed, and
Brought into my mind my maid, and
As the woodland bird had said, I
Sang the self-same song already.
XLV.
PEACE.
OFT my mother says, at leisure:
“Child, thou hast a twofold treasure;
Both for evil times reserve thou,
Peace and Innocence preserve thou!”
“Mother, peace is past and over,
Shall I ever that recover?
Bid me not forget him ever,
Who has taken and keeps it — never,
Never, till we both are mated,
Can my peace be reinstated.”
XLVI.
ALTERED.
FORMERLY all day long I was twitted,
Bodice now, and collar now, misfitted,
Now my hair was done up too untidy,
Never long enough my mirror eyed I.
Now is all this altered! “Say, whatever
Ails thee, girl, that thou art ready never?
How thou dost bedeck thee— ’tis amazing!
Hast not done yet at the mirror gazing?”
Has some witchcraft in my mind then caught me?
Who can such a change as this have wrought me?
None, my heart is silently declaring,
Save the youth, p’rhaps, and the ring I’m wearing.
XLVII.
THE LONG DAY.
ERST, when my love was here,
Spring-day was short to me.
Now he is gone away
An autumn day is long.
“Ah, how the day does fly!”
So say the others now.
I: “Oh, how slow it is!
Oh, would it only fly!
Cometh not evening soon?
Cometh not night-time’s rest?”
XLVIII.
CHARMS.
I LOOK on the bevy of maidens,
I gaze and I gaze on for ever;
The fairest I’d like to make choice of,
Yet falter for ever in choosing.
The one has the eyes that are brightest,
The other the cheeks that are freshest,
The third has the lips that are fullest,
The fourth has the heart that is warmest. —
I cannot find one but she lacketh
A something to capture my
fancy,
Not one of them can I throw over!
Oh, could I but kiss all together!
XLIX.
AMOR.
HE my heart hath never wounded,
Never, as dead volumes teach us,
Stole he forth with bow and arrows,
Innocence was all his cunning,
Beauty was his only weapon.
“Lovely boy, wouldst thou but come now,
For my heart, is warm and open.”
He obeyed, at once, and since then
Just as he is fond of staying,
I myself am fain to own him.
L.
THE COMPLIANT ONE.
IN the field, as golden sheaves I tied up,
Stood beside me there the youthful Adolf,
In his hand he held the scythe, his gun was
Leaning ‘gainst a stump upon the border;
But within the marsh that lay below it,
Near the strand, a teal cried in the rushes.
To the gun then sprang the brave young sportsman;
But his arm I seized, at once, and prayed him:
“Let alone the poor teal, do, my Adolf!
Leave her undisturbed, if but for my sake.”
Instantly his gun he put aside then,
And took to his scythe as glad as ever.
But within my mind I often ponder:
Strange indeed is he, the handsome Adolf;
For a friendly word from my lips falling,
Leaves he what his heart doth most delight in;
If my eyes throw hearty glances at him
He does gladly what he once avoided,
For a friendly kiss and fond embraces,
I believe, he’d go through fire and water.
LI.
THE SINGLE HOUR.
ALONE I bided,
He came alone too.
Across my pathway
His path was leading;
He did not tarry,
Yet thought to tarry,
Himself he spoke not,
And yet his eye spoke. —
Oh, thou unknown one,
Oh thou well-known one!
A day doth vanish,
A year o’erpasseth,
One memory ever
The other chaseth,
That briefest hour
Stays with me ever,
That bitterest hour,
That sweetest hour.
LII.
THE THORN.
THORN, oh, sapling of my kindred,
Wrapped in winter’s ice thou’rt scorned,
Clothed in spines art hated too.
But I think, when spring-time cometh,
Burst’st thou forth in leaves and roses,
And no plant on earth existeth
Sweet and lovely like to thee.
Oh, how many a thorn-stem is there
Standing naked out in Nature,
Which requireth love alone,
ut a sun-glance of a heart, to
Clothe and deck itself in roses,
And each being’s joy to be!
LIII.
THREE AND THREE.
FROM the lofty tower were looking
Three young girls out o’er the ocean,
Saw three ships in sail approaching,
And thus spoke the eldest sister:
“Sisters, look, our father’s ships are
Coming back from distant countries;
Here we are three sisters waiting,
Three commanders steer the vessels;
“He who first is safe in harbour,
He shall have my wreath of roses,
If therewith he be contented.”
And the second sister speaketh:
“Him, who next shall make the harbour,
Give I my bouquet of flowers,
If therewith he be contented.”
Then the youngest sister speaketh:
“He, who maketh last the harbour,
Shall receive my glad embraces
If he be the brave Augustus.”
LIV.
THE NORTH.
LEAVES they are falling,
Lakes they are freezing, —
Swans that are flitting,
Sail ye, oh, sail ye,
Sadly to southward,
Seeking a make-shift,
Longing back hither;
Plough ye its lakes then,
Our lakes regretting.
Then shall an eye be-
hold you from palm-trees’
shadow, and say thus:
“Languishing Swans, oh,
What a strange magic
Lingers o’er Northland?
He, who from southward
Longeth, his longing
Seeketh a heaven.”
LV.
THE RARE BIRD.
AS, at eve, he in the chamber entered,
Thus her son the aged mother scolded:
“Son, unto thy snares each day thou goest,
And each day returnest empty-handed,
Thou art either heedless, or art foolish,
Since while others catch, thou catchest nothing.”
Eagerly the youth returned this answer:
“What of that, though fortune be unequal,
We are not all for the same birds fowling.
There, beyond the moor, by you small cottage,
Is a rare bird, dearest Mother, dwelling;
I have stalked it all throughout the autumn,
Now, in winter, I at length have caught it,
But when Spring comes I shall bring it hither.
Strange that bird is, yonder, it is wingless,
Has instead embracing arms and bosom;
Has no down, but silk-like flowing tresses;
Has no bill, but two lips sweetly rounded.”
LVI.
WILT EXCHANGE OUR FORTUNES?
“GROWN up on the bank, there
Of the brook, that swelleth,
Washed by every eddy,
What a life unquiet,
Art thou leading, flower!”
Thus the flower answered:
“If the torrent spare me,
If the torrent vex me,
Yet all my disquiet
Lasts one fleeting summer.
Wilt exchange our fortunes,
Maid, washed by the torrent
In a lover’s bosom?”
LVII.
HER MESSAGE.
COME, thou sorrowing north-wind!
Every time thou comest,
Bear from her a message.
Comest thou in breezes,
Bear thou forth her sighing,
Comest thou in blusters,
Bear thou her complaining;
Comest thou in storm-winds,
Bear thou forth her woe-shrieks.
“Woe to me, the perjured,
Woe to me, forlorn one!
From the old man’s arms and
From his chilly kisses,
Who will once more bring me
To my youth, the warm one,
Back unto my first love?”
LVIII.
THE WIND-FLOWER.
WIND-FLOWER, spring-time’s first-born blossom,
If I culled thee, if I gave thee, —
To the loved one, to the cold one! —
Did I cull thee, I should give thee,
Did I give thee, I should say then:
“Near the snowdrift’s edge, oh maiden,
Waxed the spring-time’s first-born blossom,
As beside thy heart’s ice buddeth
Into bloom my love devoted,
Trembling at the wintry chill, but
Quelled not by it; neither shorn off.”
LIX.
MEETING.
SAT a maid one summer’s evening,
Viewed her face within the fountain:
“Oh, good Heavens, I am pretty!
But what booteth me my beauty,
; Since the youth I am in love with
Does not see me, does not hear me?
Rose, that now beside me glowest,
Take away my lips’ hue ruddy!
Crimson-sprinkled cloud in heaven,
Take away my cheeks’ hue crimson!
Pallid star beyond the cloud-haze,
Take away my eyes’ fresh brightness;
Last, oh, grave, take the remainder!”
This the youth with roguish pleasure
From the nearest bush had caught up,
And he springeth forth towards her,
Just the sought one, just the found one.
But forthwith her lips he kisses:
“Took the rose the lips’ hue ruddy!”
And he laid his cheek ‘gainst her cheek:
“Took the cloud the cheeks’ hue crimson!”
And into her eye he gazéd:
“Took the star the eyes’ fresh brightness!”
And his arms he flung around her:
“Took the grave now the remainder;”
For it is the grave, oh, maiden,
Wherefrom no one e’er escapeth!
LX.
LAUGHTER.
LAUGHTER had got no home,
Down-cast it roamed about,
Came to the high one’s mouth:
“Can I find lodging here?” —
“Pride dwells already here.”
Laughter had got no home,
Down-cast it roamed about,
Came to the scholar’s mouth:
“Can I find lodging here?” —
“Earnest dwells here before.”
Laughter had got no home,
Down-cast it roamed about,
Came to my maiden’s mouth:
“Can I find lodging here?” —
“Love dwells already here,
Just now the kiss arrived,
Thou’rt just the one we missed.”
LXI.
THE TEARS.
WHEN o’er the wood the sun had risen already,
And o’er the dale’s dew shed his glow, the maiden
With looks of tearful joy received her lover.
He looked into her eye, and laughed, and spake thus:
“Last night in tears I left thee, now I come back,
I find thee weeping also, darling maiden!
Tell me, what difference ‘twixt these tears existeth.
“The selfsame difference,” softly said the maiden,
“As ‘twixt the dew of eve and dew of morning.
The one the sun lights up and dissipateth,
The other dreary all night long remaineth.”
LXII.
EROS’ CHANGE.
“EROS, naughty fellow,” so said Pallas,
“For thy lust of wounding every bosom
Should’st thou to a beast of prey be changed,
To a kite with wings and crooked talons,
All in vain the host of birds pursuing.”
Eros laughed, and only said: “Well, try it!
Since thou to a kite hast Amor changed,
Every bird will now be torn to pieces.”
THE END
The Poems
Runeberg studied at the Imperial Academy of Turku, the first university in Finland, where he befriended Johan Vilhelm Snellman and Zacharias Topelius. His studies concentrated mainly on the classical languages of Latin and Greek.