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A Poem by Sandor Petofi: MY SONGS

 

MY SONGS.

DALAIM.

Oft am I sunk in deepest thought,
Although my musings bring me naught;
My thoughts then o’er my country fly,
Fly o’er the earth, rise to the sky.
The songs which from my lips then roll
Are moon-rays of my dreamy soul.

Instead of dreaming, better t’were
If for my future I should care.
If I should seek to care – but why?
Over me watches God most High.
The songs which from my lips then roll
Are mayflies of my wanton soul.

But if a lovely maid I meet,
My thoughts to inner depths retreat;
I gaze into the maiden’s eye
As views a lake a star on high.
The songs which from my lips then roll
Are roses of my lovebound soul.

If she loves me, wine joy must crown,
If not, my grief in wine I drown.
And where the cups with wine abound,
There joy and roseate light are found.
The songs which from my lips then roll
Are rainbows of my misty soul.

Yet, while I hold the glass in hand,
The yoke oppresses many a land.
As joyous as the glasses rang,
So sadly do slaves’ fetters clang.
The songs which from my lips then roll
Are clouds that overcast my soul.

Why do men dwell in slavery’s night?
Why burst they not their chains in fight?
Or do they wait, till God some day
Shall let rust gnaw their chains away?
The songs which from my lips then roll,
Are lightnings of my stormy soul.

Sándor Petőfi

Sandor Petofi

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