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ANTONÍN SOVA.
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Insects adrone, grass, plant-stems bending o'er,
The flight of sluggish moths … To thee appear
Gleams as from waters, with a radiant leap.
And by thy head there stands a calm unknown.
Thou feel'st 'tis wondrous with the dead to sleep,
For Earth has cradle-ditties of her own!
“From My Country” (1893).
5. THE LOVERS' ESTRAGEMENT.
We found us once in a single yearning: to love the same and the same to revile,
Until into our hearts the same Tempest had wafted unending snowdrifts.
We heard not Yule-tide chimes, nor herdsmen's ditties,
Nor knew that He had been born who might redeem us …
We found us again in a single yearning: to grow dead one to another,
Unending snowdrifts in our souls and unending night-times,
To clasp hands with final embrace of those long ago sundered
And never to hearken again to brutes of passion that panted within us.
We are severed. On snowbedecked fields of our Spirits
Stand rugged trees, heaven-towering, like serried landmarks,
Ravens of dreams range low beneath grey vaultage of branches.
We are severed: for years beholding not one the other, but only perplexing music
Reaches us yet. Between us are outcries of pilgrims
On opposite sides, waning into snowclad distances.
“Once again shall we return” (1900).
