Page:Anthology of Modern Slavonic Literature in Prose and Verse by Paul Selver.djvu/228

 

the waves and dim the sky, Across the shore and far away, Like drunken things the rushes sway Without a wind. O God on high, Is it decreed that longer yet Within this lockless prison set, Beside this sea that profits naught, I am to languish? Answering not, Like to a living thing, the grain Sways mute and yellowing on the plain; No tidings will it let me hear, And none besides to give me ear. 



fires ablaze, hear music sound,— The music weeps and nestles round. E'en as a diamond, precious, fair, The eyes of youth are bright, how bright! 