THE CZECHOSLOVAK REVIEW
203
Slovak Rhapsody
Translated from the Czech by P. Selver.
By KAREL DOSTÁL LUTINOV.
In Moravia’s golden epochBeneath the sceptre of SvatoplukWe were of one body.
For centuries the half of our bodyShackled beneath the yoke was deadened.
Like rock-welded Prometheus,Thou, Slovakia, didst hangWelded to thy heaven-reaching Tatra,Crucified.
Accursed be our dissension!Accursed be intolerance of sonsand father’s unfaith!Accursed be vikingry and unfaith of self,unfaith of kindred, of speech and of spirit!Accursed be foreigness and vaingloryof decking our raiment with foreign tinsels!After centuries we are our own again—but ever at war.
The untamed Mongol,who ages agoneslaughtered and burned and shatiered our realmand with arrogant heel trampled on Metod’s tomb,To-day again slaughters and burnsour Carpathian home!
And again we are severing hallowed stems,again are wraglingand trampling upon our heritagewhich Cyril and Metod implantedand we rend one the othersorer than foe and murderer can!
After centuries fused into oneby the grace of God who forgave us,wantonly we squanderdestiny, life!
O Slovakia, redeemedby age-long serfdom and sorrow,let not thy dearest treasure be seized on:Thine ancient faith, thy dulcet speech,Christendom’s courses!Thou art not of Arpad, art not of Stepan,—Metod thy father!
Whatsoever they bring unto thee for thy jewels,cast away as baubles, trumpery glass!
From sound roots of thy deep faith,from the stock of Jesse, shall spring forth a stem,shall spring forth a tree full of golden fruits,beneath which we all shall rest.1919.
