Triumphator

I saw! rising wave of nation Around him grew like a ocean – On white shoulders in triumph carried him With pride and happiness chime his glory!... His throne of laurels and of white roses woven, Among the crowd he flowed – like former Gods, And he like a statue of marbles hewed Which in Gods' heart born – in master, head!... And crowds of virgins, and crowds of youth Around press, threw wreaths, They threw the palms, crowed proud hymns The chorale of happiness, maid and youth! And went there dark grey-bearded old men Which for a hand led a young lads: And mothers of children which they had in hand, Him, showed with smile and tear. – – And the wave of nation grew more and more And towards temples with calling him carried. He the only one sad was among crowd, Like man which perishes among sea of hum, He only his marble-pale head Sank on his chest and in fiery eye First – last tear he had – which the tawny face Coat a trace of bitter stream... And when the highest wave raised him He looked in sky’s azure blues of the sun And he covered marble face with his garment, And snow-white figure lifted his soul!...