Below me half a world I see outspread; Above, blue heaven; around, peaks of snow; And yet the happy pulse of life is slow, I dream of distant places, pleasures dead. The woods of Lithuania I would tread Where happy-throated birds sing songs I know; Above the trembling marshland I would go Where chill-winged curlews dip and call o’er head. A tragic,…
Tschatir Dagh (Mirza) By Adam Bernard Mickiewicz
The reverent Mussulman bends low to greet You, Tschatir Dagh, Crimea’s bright-masted ship! World-altar,–minaret–the place where dip Down stairs from golden Heaven for the feet! You guard the door…
The Ruins Of Balaclava By Adam Bernard Mickiewicz
Oh, thankless Crimean land! in ruin laid Are now the castles that were once your pride! Here serpents and the owls from daylight hide, And robbers arm them…
The Pass Across The Abyss In The Tschufut-Kale By Adam Bernard Mickiewicz
(Mirza) Pray! Pray! Let loose the bridle. Look not down! The humble horse alone has wisdom here. He knows where blackest the abysses leer And where the path…
The Graves Of The Harem By Adam Bernard Mickiewicz
They sleep well here whom Allah loved and kept And treasured in his vineyard fair and fine, Most lustrous of the Orient pearls that shine, Which youth found…
The Grave Of Countess Potocka By Adam Bernard Mickiewicz
In Spring of love and life, My Polish Rose, You faded and forgot the joy of youth; Bright butterfly, it brushed you, then left ruth Of bitter memory…
The Ackerman Steppe By Adam Bernard Mickiewicz
Across sea-meadows measureless I go, My wagon sinking under grass so tall The flowery petals in foam on me fall, And blossom-isles float by I do not know. No…
On Juda’s Cliff By Adam Bernard Mickiewicz
On Juda’s Cliff I love to lean and look On waves that battling beat and break with might, While farther seaward in a bland delight, I see them…
Mountains From The Keslov Steppe By Adam Bernard Mickiewicz
(Pilgrim) What would Great Allah with the frozen sea? Would he of icy clouds a throne carve bright, Or would the demons of the deepest night A bar…
Becalmed By Adam Bernard Mickiewicz
The flag is listless, limp. It dances not. As deep the sea breathes from a gentle breast As any bride who dreams at love’s behest, And wakes and…