IT was not like your great and gracious ways!
Do you, that have naught other to lament,
Never, my Love, repent
Of how, that July afternoon,
You went,
With sudden, unintelligible phrase,
And frighten’d eye,
Upon your journey of so many days
Without a single kiss, or a good-bye?
I knew, indeed, that you were parting soon;
And so we sate, within the low sun’s rays,
You whispering to me, for your voice was weak,
Your harrowing praise.
Well, it was well
To hear you such things speak,
And I could tell
What made your eyes a growing gloom of love,
As a warm South-wind sombres a March grove.
And it was like your great and gracious ways
To turn your talk on daily things, my Dear,
Lifting the luminous, pathetic lash
To let the laughter flash,
Whilst I drew near,
Because you spoke so low that I could scarcely hear.
But all at once to leave me at the last,
More at the wonder than the loss aghast,
With huddled, unintelligible phrase,
And frighten’d eye,
And go your journey of all days
With not one kiss, or a good-bye,
And the only loveless look the look with which you pass’d:
‘Twas all unlike your great and gracious ways. |
Cu toată hotărârea,
Nu însă şi din inimă, îţi spun,
Iubito, rămas bun.
Ne mângâiem măcar
La gândul că ne este drumul clar.
Nimic mai lesnicios decât,
Cu pas sfielnic dar viteaz,
Cu lacrimi pe obraz,
Să mergem pe-un făgaş deosebit:
Tu, către răsărit,
Eu, înspre soare-apune,
Ce-a fost, a fost,
Speranţa nu mai are niciun rost,
Dar, scumpa mea,
Atunci când suferinţa,
Copilul tristei noastre văduvii,
Va fi murit,
Şi roua ochilor nu va-neca
Trandafirul cerului de seară,
Mai ştii?
Uimiţi din cale-afară,
Acolo unde noaptea-aceasta-i zi,
Fără să ne trădăm credinţa
În drumul drept ales de noi,
Ne vom reîntâlni;
Amara noastră pribegie
Se va-ncheia la dulcele hotar;
Şi, nesfârşit,
Ospăţul mulţumirii o să fie
De lacrimile recunoaşterii stropit. |