Venice masks

Monday, 27 February 2012

Burnt Ships - Henrik Johan Ibsen

To skies that were brighter
Turned he his prows;
To gods that were lighter
Made he his vows.

The snow-land's mountains
Sank in the deep;
Sunnier fountains
Lulled him to sleep.

He burns his vessels,
The smoke flung forth
On blue cloud-trestles
A bridge to the north.

From the sun-warmed lowland
Each night that betides,
To the huts of the snow-land
A horseman rides.

Henrik Johan Ibsen (1828 - 1906) Norway
Translated by Fydell Edmund Garrett
Source: Lyrics & poems from Ibsen, Translated by Fydell Edmund Garrett, J.M. Dent & Son, 1912

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