European Elegies/Winter/The stranger
50.THE STRANGER
His youth was over, for his hair was grey,
And his bent figure told of burdens borne;
Life from his cheek had stol'n life's bloom away
And time upon his brow deep lines had worn.
Ever his withered lips were folded fast
As if to guard a sorrow of the past.
And his bent figure told of burdens borne;
Life from his cheek had stol'n life's bloom away
And time upon his brow deep lines had worn.
Ever his withered lips were folded fast
As if to guard a sorrow of the past.
Sometimes he wanly smiled as if to cloak
A grief whose pangs consumed his tortured heart,
But through his eyes his cold despair still spoke:
My life, alas, has passed from joy apart.
My ship is burnt, my weapons shattered lie,
I live, indeed, but live in days gone by.
A grief whose pangs consumed his tortured heart,
But through his eyes his cold despair still spoke:
My life, alas, has passed from joy apart.
My ship is burnt, my weapons shattered lie,
I live, indeed, but live in days gone by.
From the Swedish of Gustaf Fröding.