Jan Neruda - Romance o černém jezeře dalszöveg fordítás angol nyelvre

English
Translation

The Black Lake

So silent lies the water, deep and deathly sad:
Around, the silent wood, like grieving myrtle dark,
The dreaming shore, and brown the moss that on it grows,
And any flower the moss reveals is pale as wax.
Here sounds no hum of bees, no singing bird is here,
Only, through empty skies, at times a bird of prey
Screams, and the echoing hills give back a sound as sad
As the sudden sob of muffled tears from far away.
 

My eyes, with dreams bemused, stare through the water black—
That pool unfathomed, what does it hide below?
Some old Bohemian legend, banished from the land?
Hides here that glassy wall some ring of ancient gods?
Rests here perhaps our great Bohemian hero band?
Noble and heroic, like the gods were you,
Forgotten by Bohemia’s land forlorn,
Forgotten quite by all this generation new.
 

If they should weep for all their nation’s grief,
Then that dark lake would swell into a darkling sea.
If they, from living breast, should sigh, their sobbing breath
Would send the lake in flooding deluge past its banks.
Below the water’s edge, uneasy is the dream
And ruffled by the breath of them that lie below.
But now their breath is quiet—the breathing of the dead,
Across the lake like chilling breeze it seems to blow.
 

Perhaps our underworld is here, the dusk beneath the lake.
Through summer twilight once I gazed towards the hills
And saw, along the forest side, some figures strange
Like troops, descending to a cavern deep in rocks.
They seemed no human shapes but rather wisps of cloud,
Through trunks they moved, from branch to branch among the brake,
Before the eye could catch them, drawing near and low
And then, like greyish cloud, dissolving in the lake.
 

Each day death sends them forth, from living tables haled,
And night-time is too short for all to pass below.
But when the morning hours weave on the shining light,
The shades remaining turn and hurry to the woods.
Each time I stepped within the black woods’ edge
Among the noise of steps I heard strange whispers fly,
And suddenly, with racing blood, I felt on me,
Gazing from gloomy copse, the stare of ghostly eye.
 

Bend down and gaze upon the trailing creepers brown
Below the water, see the lovely net they form—
Sure something must lie there, within that water calm,
And something must lie hid, within that massive pool.
How light would be that leap, how soft that fall below!
That ring of magic lore would open up its pit—
I know, I firmly hold, that something sleeps below—
For something must lie there, that draws me down to it.
 


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