The Czechoslovak Review/Volume 3/Halek's Evening Songs

by Vítězslav Hálek

For other English-language translations of this work, see Evening Songs (Hálek).

Halek’s Evening Songs

(Translated by Dr. Joseph Štýbr.)

1.
The spring came flying from afar;
With fresh desires all’s teeming;
All things pressed forward to the sun
So long all had been dreaming!

The finches flew out of their nest
And children from their bowers,
And in the meadows sweetest scents
Breathe countless little flowers.

Young leaves press their way from the twigs
And from birds’ throats their voices,
And in the heart with budding love
The youthful breast rejoices.

2.
I am the knight from the old tale
Who proudly to far regions rode
To see the lass, fair as a rose,
And to discover her abode.

Who would behold her—said her fame—
Would by a ban at once be struck;
His heart would be rent from his breast,
Or he would change to be a rock.

Thought I to myself, possibly
For clemency there might be room.
I ventured out and for my sin—
Became a bard by rigid doom.

3.
Though all the world has gone to sleep,
The heart wakes in the body,
And God himself knows that the heart
Ne’er sleeps for anybody.

The whole God’s world is silence-bound,
The heart still goes, well rated,
And God himself knows that the heart
Gets never fatigated.

Thy lips then press Thou close to mine;
From one mouth let the prayer rise—
Let me the words press on Thy lips,
And Thou send them to paradise.

Our prayer shall be strong, indeed,
Our offer purest in that case—
For angels, too, when they do pray,
Are praying just in such embrace.

Sleep is the conqueror of thought,
Night is day’s alternation—
But in the breast the heart e’er wakes
And guards its love’s sweet passion.

4.
Stars by the hundreds dot the sky
With sister Moon at leisure,
And God and angels view the world
From heaven’s height with pleasure.

A smiling angel’s coming down
To earth like heaven’s vision—
Fair as the fragrant breath of spring,
And love is his sweet mission.

Wherever he but passes by,
All’s stricken with sweet passion,
And nightingales and fair white doves
All sing with animation.

And he whom his white wing does touch
Is transformed all over,
And something sweet comes to his breast
That human words can’t cover.

5.
God summoned me to Paradise
To get me educated.
“’Tis hard for me to be alone!”
The Lord then Eve created.

He took not one rib from my breast,
My heart in half He parted.
That is why my heart still tends back
From where once Thine has started.

And that is why such strange desires
So oft in my heart gather
And I feel as though both our hearts
Should grow again together.

And that is why when I’m away
Pain to my heart is creeping,
My foot does of itself turn back,
And I am sad—to weeping.

6.
My sweetheart, come, kneel down with me
Now is the time for us to pray—
The moon has risen o’er the woods
And my time has just passed away.

But, darling, do not clasp Thy hands;
Embrace me as I Thee with mine—
And thus, instead of clasping hands,
Two hearts will in one prayer join.

7.
My sweetheart, I dreamt Thou hadst died;
I heard the death-knells pealing,
And there were tears and wails and cries
And signs of saddest feeling.

For the low mound o’er Thy strange bed
They picked a tombstone blindly
And a verse for Thine epitaph
To write they asked me kindly.

Oh folks! Oh folks! yourselves of stones,
My heart take, with grief raving,
And what I have not sung before
Use for the stone’s engraving!

You trusted not in my pure love
And scorned my word and letter
Now if the stone will speak to you,
You’ll understand it better.

8.
So many, many things there are
To which the keys are lacking.
Deep silence answers all man’s knocks
And foils his undertaking.

Thou human heart! There sorrows howl
As wolves, by hunger driven,
And yet that same heart, Oh my God!
To love alone is given.

‘Tis capable of so much love
That man’s wit may be failing,
And he may as the lonely dove
In vain roam, ever wailing.

9.
If that poor nightingale
Lived always with her mate,
Her love songs would not sound
So sad and desolate.

If that poor heart but would
With Thee wake through the night,
Instead of pain it would
Resound with sweet delight.

10.
I am a linden with large crown,
In style dressed in the meadow:
Thou beautiful, sweet rose of May,
Come to my cooling shadow.

Here each green leaf does odor breathe
And swarms of bees are humming,
And, nightly, little birds arrive—
Those are my thoughts, home coming.

They fly far-off as children do
From home until they hunger,
But, with Thee seated close to me,
They will depart no longer.

11.
At prophets cast ye never stones;
They are as birds, shy, clever:
Cast thou a stone at him but once,
And he is gone forever.

God’s fearful wrath the nation seeks
Whose love of bards is shaken,
And greatest wrath befell the race
From whom God songs has taken.

The poet’s heart is pure and chaste,
His faith does never vary:
Therefore, what he sings from his heart
That in your heart ye carry.

12.
Blest is the man whom the Lord’s hand
As bard has consecrated;
He has looked into God’s decrees
And has men’s breasts well rated.

He knows what’s in the world’s great psalm
And what the birds are singing;
He understands the throbbing heart,
In tears and with joy ringing.

What secret is to other men
Is open to his vision;
He is the leader of God’s race
To its long promised region.

He is the king of kingdoms vast,
The priest of men’s salvation,
And beauty’s treasures lie in him
Beyond all estimation.

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NOTE. Among the lyric and romantic poets who loomed upon the new horizon of the Czech literature in the second half of last century, when the nation appeared to be no longer in need of nourishment from history in its literary education, and when new ways have been sought and found. Vítězslav Hálek (1835–1874) held the most prominent position. From his first appearance in poetry in 1858 for twenty years he held the nation’s attention end enjoyed its adminiration and love. Although neither a deep philosopher nor a prophet of immeasurable horizon, he spoke from heart to heart to the rejuvenated nation; and although he had died in less than the prime of life, with 39 years, he has given the Czech literature a line of works touching upon nearly all classes of writing that filled their mission fully for the time. As a lyric poet he was scarcely outdone to this day. His volume of Evening Songs (Večerní písně) which appeared first in 1858, and since then in many editions, remained his culminating point; a volume of ever fragrant and pleasing effusions of feeling, appealing especially to the tenderness of heart in the erotic spring of life.

The above selection from the mentioned volume is a good illustration of his spirit and style.The translator.