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A Poem by Hristo Botev : Eloped

Hristo-Botev-circa-1875

Eloped

In the glade a pipe is played,
By the forest green and still,
Where Stoyana, fair, sweet maid,
Runs for water to the rill.
In the garden screams her aunt,
Woman shrewish, malice-fed.
‘Where are you so early bound?
Are you really going mad?
Wait for me to come with you!’
To her mother then she flew
To bear tales of all she knew,
What Stoyana meant to do.
Up did spring her mother old,
Out onto the porch she stepped,
Saw the banner floating bold
Red with blood, and sorely wept.
For the banner floated there
‘Mid a crowd of heroes brave
While Stoyana, white and fair,
Snuggled in Doichin’s embrace.
When he saw his maiden dear
Coming to him, gaily clad,
To his comrades, full of cheer,
Merrily he cried out, glad:
‘Hey, my comrades, brave and strong!
Here she comes!’ he cried with pride.
‘See my forest bird of song,
See my well beloved bride!’
Out he stepped and smiling stood,
Welcome bidding to his bride,
Saw her beaming face and fired,
Proud and happy by her side.
Shot on shot went off at once,
Boist’rous songs re-echoed round,
While the lovers, in embrace,
Stood with hands so closely bound.
But her greatly troubled mother
At this falsehood and deceit
Cursed Doichin and cursed her daughter,
Shedding tears at her defeat.
‘May you never smiled in gladness,
You, my daughter, and Doichin!
May, you pine forlorn and helpless,
In a year grow pale and thin!
May your hearts an illness sever,
Illness merciless and grave,
May Doichin in goal forever
Chained and lone for freedom crave!
That cursed brigand you so love
May you see him on the pale;
From its tip, so high above,
Grinning at the fairies pale!
He misled your own poor brother,
Made of him a brigand vile
And yourself, your dear old mother
To forsake, he did beguile.’
But these words so harsh, so rude,
Woke her father from his sleep;
Much he wondered; frowning, mute
Was his face in furrows deep.
Then he saw amid the crowd
Both his children and Doichin,
Stroked his grizzly beard and loud
Shouted to the forest green:
‘Oh, my forest, mother own,
Who so long did shelter give!
Shelter not to me alone,
But to all who there did live!
Nurse and love those children mine
Long, while birds do sing in thee,
While the golden sun does shine,
May this flag wave proud and free!’

 

Hristo Botev

Христо Ботев

The monument of Hristo Botev in Kalofer

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About Mohammad Daeizadeh

  • تمامی فایل ها قبل از قرار گیری در سایت تست شده اند.لطفا در صورت بروز هرگونه مشکل از طریق نظرات مارا مطلع سازید.
  • پسورد تمامی فایل های موجود در سایت www.parsseh.com می باشد.(تمامی حروف را می بایست کوچک وارد کنید)
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