A Dog in the Quarry - Miroslav Holub

The day was so bright
that even birdcages flew open.
The breasts of lawns
heaved with joy
and the cars on the highway
sang the great song of asphalt.

To a New Morning - Jaromír Borecký

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.

The morning appears immeasurably beautiful - Wenceslaus II

The morning appears immeasurably beautiful,
the night must descend from her throne,
which she held in all her magnificence in Greece:
now the day shall ascend.

The Song of the Heavens, the Stars, Schumann and My Wife - Hanuš Jelínek

Du meine Seele . . .
The heavens have cried their golden tears,
They have cried so still, they have cried;

Charity - Ivan Blatný

Hearken, the rivers won’t be frozen this winter

or nearly any other winter for that matter

this is a milde climate

Faith is a living pow’r from Heav’n - Petrus Herbertus

Faith is a living pow’r from Heav’n

That grasps the promise God hath giv’n,

A trust that cannot be o’erthrown,

Fixed heartily on Christ alone.

To Prague - Frantisek Halas

Ye faint of faith Bone gnawing time

has been her beauty giver

from wailing fields illuminated ever

those muralled texts of portals and of walls

Sometimes we are tied down by memories - Jaroslav Seifert

Sometimes we are tied down by memories

and there are no scissors that could cut

through those tough threads.

       Or ropes!

May (Part 1) - Karel Hynek Mácha

'T was late at eve . . . the first of May,

A night in May . . . 'twas time for love.

A love lure sang the turtle-dove,

Where scented pine groves stretched away.

Nature - Otakar Březina

Hidden springs were playing music and my day its song thereto was chanting,

On the melancholy shores.

Thus sang the burning stars - Otakar Březina

Each second that passes, ever within our places

In the mystic dance of the worlds

We revolve in the cosmos.

In the lustrous spheres of spirits we burn with a living

Beauty.

Around our heads,

In aureoles

Golden tresses are sparkling,

Extended like resonant lassos

In the flight of the whirlwind.

In unison of spires uprearing - Jan Křesadlo

In unison of spires uprearing

Below, the River's low pedal bass

To some she tastes of wine, light, cheering

To some of bile, and vinegar, base.

Summer - Óndra Łysohorsky

A rocky slope, all overgrown with pine trees

Looks musing down the frothy Ostravitsa.

The summer ripens. Through the crowded branches

The midday sun drifts onto tallgrown grasses.

Dead Flowers - Sidonie Grünwald-Zerkovitz

In the vase on the sill your roses lie

Looking, now, wilted and dead

Once, resplendently charming the eye

In white and crimson red.

Halley's Comet - Jaroslav Seifert

I saw nothing at that moment,

             nothing but strangers' backs,

heads under their hats craning.

The street was crowded.

We Are Never Too Old for Loving - Sidonie Grünwald-Zerkovitz

We are never too old for loving.
Happy is he, who does not deny it
And strides through fate as if it were nothing,
For, by love, will he always be guided.

In the Microscope - Miroslav Holub

Here too are the dreaming landscapes,
lunar, derelict.

Drained Pond - Petr Borkovec

March flies swarm and spill.
Blistered prints of dragon-flies and frogs.

When It Is Raining - Zbyněk Hejda

When it is raining,
the pond looks
as if it is just convalescing

Room for All - Óndra Łysohorsky

I am a river.

From my source the gathering waters have been flowing

since time began

towards the ocean.

I accept brooks

that once were clear

and now disgusting city-sewers.

There is room for all.