Page:An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry.pdf/121

Rh  :Hark to the waves how in their savage strife,
 * They wake the echoes in the rocks to life.

Thou weenest 'midst their streaming Stands mighty Pan, exulting as they brawl, O'er back and arms, and all
 * His tresses flowing free

He gazes, how the waves in torrents fall,
 * And claps his hands for glee.

 

The air is steeped in scent of berries, and 'tis crystal-clear around, How the moss is palpitating underneath thy tread! And from the rushes strains like unto melodies of flutes resound, A gleaming rain of blossoms from the hawthorn bush is shed. Thou askest—joylul tears within thine eye, "Why is this, O why?" On high The bird speaks, at thy foot the blossom of the field, "Only thus can all Spring's wonders be revealed."

Thy breath is sweet with scent of berries, crystal-clear thine eye is gleaming, How thy bosom 'neath the pressure of my hand doth thrill! 