Light within the Shade: Eight Hundred Years of Hungarian Poetry

My Songs

58 | Light within the Shade My Songs Sunk in reverie I sometimes wonder What those thoughts are, that my mind dreams under; Up I fly, beneath me spreads the nation Till I scan the whole world of creation; Thence come songs whose fruit-time will inherit All the moonrays of my dreaming spirit. Better, perhaps, make future resolutions, Than to live your life in mere illusions; Maybe I should strive . . . ah, why this striving? God is good and cares for my surviving. Thence come songs whose fruit-time will inherit Butterflies from my light-hearted spirit. Lost in a love-tryst’s ardent attentions, Deeper I inter my apprehensions, In my lovely mistress’ eyes I’m gazing As a star into the still sea’s dazing; Thence come songs whose fruit-time will inherit Wild white roses from my amorous spirit. Does she love me? joy turns me to drinking; Loves me not? drink drowns all bitter thinking; Where there is a glass and wine within it, Pied delights rise fresh in every minute; Thence come songs whose fruit-time will inherit Rainbows from my mad and drunken spirit. But, alas, the glass from which I’m drinking Echoes the sound of nations’ shackles clinking, And the hand that holds the glass, so merry, Mourns to be bound by freedom’s adversary: Thence come songs whose fruit-time will inherit Darkened rainclouds from my grieving spirit. sá n dor pe tőf i | 59 How much more will the enslaved still bear it? Why not break the chain, from free wrists tear it? Must we then await, begging God’s pity, Rust to chew the shackles from the city? Thence come songs whose fruit-time will inherit All the lightnings of my wrathful spirit! 1846 ...