Stolat.pl

Z pocałunkiem pożegnania,
Kiedy nadszedł czas rozstania,
Dziś już wyznać się nie wzbraniam:
Miałaś rację - teraz wiem -
życie moje było snem,
Cóż, nadzieja uszła w cień!
A czy nocą, czyli w dzień,
Czy na jawie, czy w marzeniu -
Jednak utonęła w cieniu.
To, co widzisz, co się zda -
Jak sen we śnie jeno trwa.
Nad strumieniem, w którym fala
Z głuchym rykiem się przewala,
Stoję zaciskając w dłoni
Złoty piasek... Fala goni,
A przez palce moje, ach,
Przesypuje mi się piach -
A ja w łzach, ja tonę w łzach...
Gdybym ziarnka, choć nie wszystkie,
Mocnym zawrzeć mógł uściskiem,
Boże, gdybym z grzmiącej fali
Jedno ziarnko choć ocalił!...
Ach, czy wszystko, co się zda,
Jak sen we śnie jeno trwa?

There are some qualities - some incorporate things,
, , That have a double life, which thus is made
A type of that twin entity which springs
, , From matter and light, envinced in solid and shade.
There is a two-fold Silence - sea and shore -
, , Body and soul. One dwells in lonely places,
, , Newly with grass o'ergrown; some solemn graces,
Some human memories and tearful lore,
Render him terorless: his name's "No More."
He is the corporate Silence: dread him not!
, , No power hath he of evil in himself;
But should some urgent fate (untimely lot!)
, , Bring thee to meet his shadow (nameless elf,
That haunteth the lone regions where hath trod
No foot of man), commend thyself to God!

Science! true daughter of Old Time thou art!
, , Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes.
Why preyest thou thus upon the poet's heart,
, , Vulture, whose wings are dull realities?
How should he love thee? or how deem thee wise?
, , Who would not leave him in his wandering
To seek for treasure in jewelled skies,
, , Albeit he soared with an undaunted wing?
Has thou not dragged Diana from her car?
, , And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
, , Has thous not torn the Naiad from the flood,
The Elfin from the green grass, and from me
The summer dread beneath the tamarind tree?

Thy soul shall find itself alone
'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone ;
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.

Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness-for then
The spirits of the dead, who stood
In life before thee, are again
In death around thee, and their will
Shall overshadow thee ; be still.

The night, though clear, shall frown,
And the stars shall not look down
From their high thrones in the Heaven
With light like hope to mortals given,
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever
Which would clingto thee for ever.

Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,
Now are visions ne'er to vanish ;
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more, like dew-drop from the grass.

The breeze, the breath of God, is still,
And the mist uponthe hill
Shadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken,
Is a symbol and a token.
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!