Never knowing what the day will bring us.
We awake to laughter at first glow.
Noon moves near: we curse and cross our fingers.
Look, how long the shadows swiftly grow!

Strength and courage—qualities we treasure—
Vanish as the daylight… We remain
With maturity to grace our leisure,
Like a heavy cloak donned after rain.

* * *
Dying men, who know they’ve only
Five more minutes in the sun,
Often make a fuss unholy,
As if they’d an age to run!

Mountains ponder the persistence
Of such fools, who waste their breath
And themselves weep in the distance
As if they were facing death.

* * *

There are three songs people treasure,
Songs to which they smile, or cry:
First, the song of sheerest pleasure,
Is a mother’s lullaby.

Second is the song that, stroking
Her dead son’s cold cheek and breast.
A mother sings, from sorrow choking…
Third and last—come all the rest.

* * *

Should I ever turn to metal,
Money of me do not mint!
In a purse I’d hate to settle,
Setting greedy eyes a-glint.

If fate wills this transformation,
Forge a dagger out of me:
Sheathed, I’ll relish meditation,
Roused, I’ll rout the enemy.

* * *

Like steam-locos we arrive,
Puff awhile, then off we go
From the railway station, Life,
With its bustling to and fro.

All too soon the time shall come
When I’ll have to glide away.
Red light, to the maximum
My departure time delay!

* * *

A mountain breeze his cradle rocks.
A torrent racing by
And avalanche’s thudding shocks
Provide the lullaby.

May our grown sons as bravely ride
As mountaineers of yore,
And eagles with an equal pride
Above our young men soar!

* * *

Down my window raindrops pour
And I hear the thunder roar:
Passions set my soul alight—
Joy and Anguish, Love and Spite.

Joy I’ll part with to a friend,
Anguish in my verse expend,
Love I lavish—help yourself!
Spite I leave to chide myself.

* * *

All day it pours. I sit indoors
And through the window pane
Watch houses, streets and distant peaks
Dissolve in mist and rain.

Where can the clear horizon be?
The sky is overcast.
I close my weary eyes, and see
Nothing but the past.

* * *

Time, you oppress me and cruelly test me
With sad revelation and scorn.
Today it’s with yesterday’s faults you invest me,
My forts of illusion you storm.

Who could foresee that old truths would be shaken?
What are you grinning at, Time?
The wrong path I took was the one you had taken,
Your words I re-echoed in rhyme!

* * *

I do not wait upon a word,
Nor beg it to be written.
It must come willingly, unspurred,
As does a tear—unbidden;

Alighting unexpectedly
On the expectant pages
As, unannounced, a friend steps in
Whom I’ve not seen for ages.

* * *

Our hillmen with a noble gesture
Would seal their friendship at a stroke
By swopping gifts—a blade or dagger,
Their finest horse, or finest cloak.

My friends, the bond of fellow-feeling
With gifts of song I reinforce,
For poetry is my dearest weapon,
My finest riding cloak and horse.

* * *

A man with an imposing hat
May prove to be a fool unbounded,
A man with golden sword and strap,
A timorous, ignoble coward.

The owners of rich flocks and herds
May live poor lives, devoid of feeling,
But simple songs with simple words
May well convey a wealth of meaning.

* * *

Fame, go away, leave the living alone!
What do you know about people?
Even for great men who stand on their own,
Laurels are frequently lethal.

Fame, my advice to you is: help the dead!
They need your prompting paternal.
Your spur won’t kill but shall rouse them instead
To relish their glory eternal.

* * *

What’s your life like, dashing riders?
«With a bad wife—black as fate!»
What’s your life like, dashing riders?
«With a good wife—life is great!»

What’s your life like, gentle women?
«With a bad man—life is sad.»
What’s your life like, gentle women?
«With a good man—just as bad.»

* * *

Lute, where are the clear and clever
Airs you used to strum?
«I play now as well as ever,
It’s your ears that hum.»

Lute, why does the music falter,
Seem so wearisome?
«It’s not I, it’s you that alter,
It’s your heart grows numb.’’

* * *

Tell me, timeless river,
Flowing past my door,
What was the most beautiful
Sight you ever saw?

With a smile the river
Wistfully replied:
«The black and clumsy boulder
Where I leapt, a child!»

* * *

Great courage in the heat of strife
Is swiftly shown, but all one’s life
To live up to a hero’s fame
Is harder than to win the name.

It’s simple to become a thief
Or traitor, for the lapse is brief,
But hard to wash the stain away
Or bear it to one’s dying day!

* * *

Little children growing up
Frighten me. But what’s to fear?
Apple-blossom white in spring
Frightens me. But what’s to fear?

Rockets racing into space
Frighten me. But what’s to fear?
All is in its proper place
Save my ever-present fear.

* * *

In vain you cry with jealousy.
Your charges are unjust.
The very fact you rail at me
Awakes my wanderlust.

The woman at whose name you wept
Is not a vicious flirt
And never thinks of me—except
When she, like me, is hurt.

* * *
I don’t believe in miracles.
Still—let death claim its due
And bear me off… but send me back
Within a year or two.

A visitor from faraway,
I’ll knock upon your door.
If you need comforting, I’ll stay;
If not, I’ll die once more.

* * *

Woman, wear your gayest dresses,
Put away old scarves and frocks!
«Fine attire my heart distresses
And I keep it in my box.»

Then you’ll mar your fine apparel.
Was that what you bought it for?
«No, the man I was to marry
Never came back from the war.»

* * *

Mountain stream, it’s lack of rain
Splits a rock asunder.
Why bear moisture to the plain
Where there’s an abundance?

Spurning those who love you so,
Heart of mine inconstant,
Why are you so keen to go
Where we’re both unwanted?

* * *

«Early guests are early gone!»
Runs the well-known saying.
Love came early. Night draws on.
Love is overstaying.

«Look, you’ve shared my roof, my wine!
Go now!» Love mid laughter
Says: «This roof is yours and mine
Now and ever after!»

* * *

Although the war took you away,
I feel you more alive
Than many men I meet today,
Who happened to survive.

Dear friend, the war took you away.
Though dead, it’s you alone
Who fill my heart with warmth, while they…
They chill me to the bone.

* * *

The firmament by no means all
The time appears so firm.
I’m terrified lest it should fall
And crush me like a worm.

But, looking at the mountain tops,
I realise I’m proof
From accident, for they, like props,
Support the heaven’s roof.

* * *

Where are you, Happiness? Show yourself! Speak!
«Up in the mountains, here on the summit.»
Happiness, where? I’ve ascended the peak.
«Down in the torrent—you haven’t yet swum it.»

Where are you now? Many torrents are past.
«I’m in the lines you shall write.» Don’t forsake me!
Look, here they are! Show your face now—at last!
«I’m way ahead. You may yet overtake me!»

* * *

«Saddle my father’s horse!» I said,
«Thank God, I’ve learned to ride!»
I mounted, but it tossed its head
And threw me to one side.

I called aloud for silence: «Bring
My father’s lute to try!»
The moment that I touched a string,
It severed with a cry.

* * *

On land, as in the sea, I swim
On top, or struggle out of depth,
Where utterances gay or grim
Emerge as so much wasted breath.

When troubles harry us on land,
We feel at sea. In sorry plight
We swim without a helping hand,
With neither ship nor shore in sight.

* * *

People, why are you so slow?
Tortoises don’t rush, I know.
But it suits a cautious beast
Who lives a hundred years at least.

People, why so fleet and fast,
Like a rabbit rushing past?
It makes sense if everyone
Has but five more years to run!

* * *

Back on the road again… I know
How far I’ve walked and what befell.
How many miles remain to go?
Neither you nor I can tell.

Back on the road again… I see
My distant goal and love it well.
But shall I reach that boundary?
Neither you nor I can tell.

* * *

Walk abroad and wear no coat?
Down it pours without delay.
My horse is lame again, I note.
Look, tomorrow’s racing-day!

Leave my gun at home? In glee
Geese above my head shall Sock.
And when friends abandon me,
Enemies grow bold and mock.

* * *

The sight of friend in love with friend
Disturbs my solitary ego.
With him and her I wish to blend
In an inseparable trio.

But it’s absurd—a three-winged bird!
With trailing wing, unloved, undone,
I hobble by. For how can I,
A cripple, fly with only one!

* * *

A rider’s heart is like a fire!
So, young girl, take care!
Fire you can damp and douse
Or arouse, beware!

A rider’s heart is like a knife!
So, young girl, beware!
You can blunt a blade or make it
Razor sharp, beware!

* * *

Like a river in full spate,
Down it pours. A pity!
For the young man has a date,
And she’s very pretty.

Down it pours! She, too, deplores
The inclement season.
Lips grow numb. He doesn’t come.
Is the rain the reason?

* * *

I pause before the classroom door
Through which I passed, a child.
I smooth my hair, now grey and rare.
My sober heart runs wild.

From my old desk a boy shall rise
And come to welcome me!
That’s why there’s panic in my eyes…
And curiosity.

* * *

At song-birds and at nightingales
Do not cast a stone!
Girls, refrain from slighting males
By your callous tone!

You’re too hard on me, my dear.
Many a hasty word
Gives me pain no less severe
Than stones that strike a bird.

* * *

Don’t stare at me so haughtily!
With proud men I am proud,
Proud I have saddled my own horse,
And that I’ve sown and ploughed.

My heartbeat never falters,
I’m a patriot avowed.
Don’t stare at me so haughtily!
With proud men I am proud.

* * *

A young man in the village
Had a wife with raven hair.
When both of them were twenty,
War split the happy pair.

A hero’s grey-haired widow,
Now she sits beside her door.
Their son has seen more summers
Than his father ever saw.

* * *

So many men were torn away
From us in war’s dread sweep,
Remembrance of it still today
Makes wives and mothers weep.

New grass has grown, and grown are now
The sons of those who died…
And new fears flicker on the brow
Of mother and of bride.

* * *

In late April driving snow
Sweeps in clouds across the plain.
When it sees the earth below—
Look, it melts and falls as rain.

Racing down the mountain path,
Angrily to you I go.
But your presence melts my wrath
As the earth does April snow.

* * *

For three whole days I wined and dined
At ease in foreign places,
But on the fourth day how I pined
For home, and homely faces!

For three days foreigners’ discourse
Retained its fascination,
But on the fourth I sought my horse
And hillfolk’s conversation.

* * *

Our hillfolk, jealous of their own
Small plots, drew lines of demarcation.
But storms ignored the walls of stone
And everywhere wrought devastation.

Our world, too, has its boundaries
But, when hail strikes or thunder flashes,
They never ask whose field it is
Nor worry where the frontier passes.

* * *

What’s the use of gold or diamonds
Hidden in the ground,
Or of stars that give up shining
When there’s cloud around?

Friend, I shall be very brief
Because to me it’s plain:
If you spurn another’s grief,
You live your life in vain.

* * *

An eagle halted, hovering
Above the world with outspread wing.
I’d like to spread my own arms wide,
And clasp all who on earth reside,

All those who grieve, all those who dance,
All those who dwell in this expanse.
I’d like to sing that joy be full
And rocks grow soft as lambs’ new wool.

* * *

Time, do not brag! We’re not all shades
That glimmer in your light!
Many a man among us lives
Whose virtue makes you bright.

Our heroes, poets, philosophers
Illuminate your way.
It’s with their splendour—and not yours—
You shine each hour and day.

* * *

My childhood days are far behind.
In vain I cry and yearn,
For no appeal or plea of mine
Can make those days return.

I see old age ahead of me,
A heavy load he bears.
In vain I cry: «Please let me by!’’
He blocks my way, and stares.

* * *

Old stone house my father built,
Empty now and icy,
I was once your nestling shrill.
Don’t you recognise me?

«I can see you’re back again.
But what pleasure is it
If you come just now and then
On a flying visit?»

* * *

Babes cannot say
What makes them cry.
I’m fretting—
Do not ask me why!

The sun and wind
Look wrong to me,
The rain’s unkind,
Your voice off-key.

* * *

A new dawn breaks in soft grey light
Without the sun, for thick mist drowns
The fields where, ageing overnight,
The sodden earth now grimly frowns.

Across its face a shadow falls,
As when a loving mother waits
To greet her son, but sees his horse
Come empty-saddled through the gates.

* * *

A tiny grain of sand will bruise
Your feet and make them bleed.
If you do not shake out your shoes,
You’ll find you can’t proceed.

I tried, dear friend, to read your verse
But had to stop half-way,
For clumsy words and lines hurt more
Than shoe-sand any day.

* * *

I thought all the trees were in lily-white blossom,
But when I rode nearer I found it was snow.
I thought you would love me, be tender and docile—
I blundered again, but I can’t leave you now.

I race in the hills at a pace that is killing,
I haven’t a coat, black and wet are the screes.
My precious strong-willed one, my icicle-chill one,
Say, what must I do, warm—and pity me, please!

* * *
They say I am lavish with love, and a rake,
A gallant deceiver, and one of the worst.
They say it’s this woman, that woman I date.
They talk of a lapse «and by no means the first».

Don’t heed what they say! I have always been true,
Though memory go back no matter how far!
I’ve loved you alone, dear, I love only you,
Though still it’s a puzzle to me what you are!

* * *

The night is tedious as prose
And black as turpitude,
Dull as a guest who never goes
But forces me to brood.

The house is sleeping as I write:
A friend is drawing near.
I’m wide awake and wait all night—
Tomorrow he’ll be here!

* * *

My neighbour in a lively tone
Was telling us a story,
When past us came a village crone
With fingers bent and horny.

The story-teller turned his head,
Attentively and mutely
He watched her go, then softly said:
«Ah, she was such a beauty!»

* * *

Why drag the fact up every day
That you are younger?
To live with you and not go grey
Would be a wonder!

To censure me for being old
Is cruel, futile…
Come, need a wounded man be told
His wound is fatal?

* * *

For lullabies I feel no inclination,
To help you to sleep sound until the morn.
I would much rather come and take my station
Beside your bed, and there await the dawn.

Throughout the autumn night, so long in passing,
I’ll guard your peaceful slumbers as you dream,
Just as a maple shields a sleeping valley,
Or silent rock protects a mountain stream.

* * *

To dedicate such verses to you, dearest,
I hesitate—lest someone read these lines,
A man of greater worth, a suitor peerless,
Whose burning passion shall outrival mine.

To dedicate such verses to you, dearest,
I hesitate—lest someone else renew
His vows of love to her who is his dearest
In these fair phrases I address to you.

* * *

Grant me but one glance adoring,
Say one word—I’ll go
Headlong into fire or water,
Dash through hail or snow,

Scale a mountain at your bidding.
Plumb a precipice,
Mark the outermost meridian
For one parting kiss!

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