ANTON AŠKERC
313
Glorious saint in heavenly salvation,
Father of Carthusians, Holy Bruno,
Thou who 'mid the barren vale didst bear us,
Yonder 'mid the vale Chartreuse didst bear us,
Thou who spreadest over us thy mantle,
Here at Zajc assembled in the cloister;
Be not angered, father, be not angered.
That thy son, the agèd Marijófil,—
Whilom the custodian of thy cloisters,
Prior now in this unworthy hostel,
Writes to-day this story in the annals,
To the parchment he consigns these tidings,
Tidings that perchance will sore afflict thee.
Thirty years have gone their endless journey,
Thirty years have slowly glided onward.
'Twas a day in autumn, warm and beauteous,
When I pilgrimaged unto this cloister,