I know not what 'twas o'er me stole,
As if the ice were rent apart,
That for a longdrawn span of dole
In chains had fettered fast my heart.
Once more I feel exultant powers,
E'en as the lark on high doth soar,
Or like the blue-bell 'mid the flowers,
When that the mend is docked once more.
The hawthorn whispers from its spray,
The torrent from the clump of firs,
That once again has dawned my day,
Or—love once more my being stirs.
Jaromír Borecký (1869 - 1951) Czech Republic
Translated by Paul Selver
Source: Wikisource - An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry, Translated by Paul Selver, Henry J. Drane, 1912
As if the ice were rent apart,
That for a longdrawn span of dole
In chains had fettered fast my heart.
Once more I feel exultant powers,
E'en as the lark on high doth soar,
Or like the blue-bell 'mid the flowers,
When that the mend is docked once more.
The hawthorn whispers from its spray,
The torrent from the clump of firs,
That once again has dawned my day,
Or—love once more my being stirs.
Jaromír Borecký (1869 - 1951) Czech Republic
Translated by Paul Selver
Source: Wikisource - An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry, Translated by Paul Selver, Henry J. Drane, 1912
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