I Pf,ivVt"'"?' '■■■ klV a- ^? 1 jl A •1. I -ji-' -.ffW^ t ' ' , illlltrl': ^!^h ■ ■■' ■c, 1^ :. 1 I ■ COPYRIGHT DEPOSir. i IVAN ZORMAN PESMI CLEVELAND, OHIO 1922 Copyright, 1922, by Ivan Zorman JUN 14 1922 <0)CI.A677147 Zelje. Viharne, koprnece zelje, ki V sfcnem hramu valove, me vcasih poneso v veselje, 2 bridkostjo veckrat me teze. A hujse bodo bolecine, ce kdaj usahne vir zelja, in jamem dvigati spomine iz ostarelega srca. Metulju, Na mrezo okna mojega si lahno se prizibal; ce bi lovil te ali ne, za hipec sem ugibal. Od tvojih micnih barv prevzet, sem zrl te pozeljivo in V suznost mislil vzeti sem lepoto to vabljivo. — Ne bom prostosti ti jemal, te V tesni stan zapiral, kjer V mracni moji suznosti bi zalosten umiral. Saj vem, kako tezko, hudo prostost je izgubiti, kako hudo in zalostno po sili je sluziti. Pri meni le se povasuj, naj se oko napije, potem spet zleti v plan in hrib, kjer zlato solnce sije. V tezkih urah. Tezko takrat je zemljanu, ko V nemoci dusa mre, ko mu omaguje volja, ko V zivljenje plaho zre. Od usode crnotemne ob prepad obupa gnan, isce dobrosrcne roke, ki mu spet odkrije dan. Niceva se zdi tolazba, ki mu jo poklanja svet, brez hladila rek modrosti, V knjigi svetlo razodet. Z mrzlo mislijo-vodnico bolna dusa se bori, tezko caka resnje poti, tezko caka jasnih dni. S planine hudournik . S planine hudournik viharno pridrvi — ko sprejme ga livada, se naglo umiri. V gorovju gozd trepece, mu strela, grom preti — ko solnce ga poboza, pokojno spet susti . . . Le rahlocuten clovek, preganjan od skrbi, utrujenemu srcu pokoja ne dobi. V jeseni. Zakaj, vetrovi nocni, srdito se oglasate, zakaj pokojni dusi nemir in strah prinasate? Ste prisli mi ocitat veselje prejsnjih cvetnih dni in rogat se spominu carobnih zvezdnatih noci? Glasniki vi ste dusi zakona neizprosnega: Vsak hip sladkosti srcne poplacaj ura zalostna! Svarilo starca. Mnogo je spomladnih dni minilo, predno sem prirode moc spoznal. Koliko gorja bi manj mi bilo, ce pri njej hladila bi iskal! Mnogo je poletij odhitelo, predno me je caral njih sepet, predno duso mehko je objelo sladko petje ptic in trat lesket. Dolgo zivel sem v drazestnem kraju, sredi polj cvetocih in ravnin, a srce ni znalo, da je v raju . . . Na mladost mi vstaja zal spomin. O, naj mlado bi srce spoznalo kras prirode, blesk tekocih let, da se bridko kdaj ne bo kesalo, ker prezrlo je prelepi svet! 10 V zrcalu. Krog mojih zalostnih oci uzrl duha sem mladih dni. Nedolzno se mi je smehljal, otrosko, tiho mi dejal: ''Zakaj izpolnil nisi sanj, ki zivo veroval si vanj, ni vec ti solncnih ciljev mar, ni trdna volja vec vladar? Obeti tvoji kje so, kje, li staro, mrtvo je srce, je li tako te zbegal svet, da sleheren vzor ti je odvzet? Zatisnil naglo sem oci, kot on, ki se duhov boji, in V prsih mojih cut pekoe pozabnost zval je na pomoc. 11 Slikarju. Spet slikas Krista trpecega, na Oljski gori molecega, bi spet obudil rad spomin neznosnih, smrtnih bolecin? Dovolj nam je Kristov-trpinov, dovolj vseh bridkostnih spominov, ne kazi nam njegovih ran, pokazi Krista solncno stran. Naslikaj nam Krista veselega, mladenica lepega, smelega, ki bratom lahno se smeji in kaze zarjo lepsih dni. 12 Srcu. Kako bi vcasih glasno vriskal, sosedu roko krepko stiskal, nezmerne radosti pijan, od bajnih luci le obdan! A vcasih se solzan hudujem, usodo kruto objokujem, in karam vse stvari, Ijudi, vsa zemlja se sovrazna zdi. — Daruj, srce, mi sredo zlato, odvrni radost prebogato, veselje daj prijaznih cest in zmerno zalost in bolest! 13 Starka. Kakor bela sveca, ki V svetiscu plapola, lep obraz je starke, kadar se smehlja. Kakor zimsko solnce, ki izcrpano zari, zre oko nje trudno, ko razmislja mlade dni. Zarod njen odsel je — tihe njene so zelje, kakor pod razpalim mlinom tihe so vode. 14 V tihem zimskem veceru. Vecer v ledene cipke grmovje, drevje vije, da rahlo, pravljicno cinglja kristalne melodije. Topolov vrsta bela se V biserih leskece, ko zvezd srebrnih milijon z neba poljube mece. Zakaj nocoj, o zima, tako si mila, zala? Zato li, da po tebi kdaj bi dusa zalovala? 15 Snezinke. Ste ve duhovi padlih listov, snezinke prve zimskih dni, da veter skozi golo drevje za vami zalostno jeci? Ali pa angeli ste blagi, ki trume peljete duhov V domovje tajno, kjer se spleta nakit za vigred zelen, nov? V pomladnem jutru. Topla solncna luc je bila skrita V mraku duhomornih zimskih dni danes, v zmagoslaven spev razlita, V jasnem jutru vesna se smeji. Kot otroci zivi so potoki, ni otoznosti na njih sledu; glasnih pticic lahni so poskoki, ne poznajo bridkih ur sadii. Cvetke k nebu dvigajo glavice, ko poljube solnce jim deli — jaz pa sem pozabil na krivice ob prihodu blagodejnih dni. 17 Njagara. Mogocni slap, sijajni kras dezele, svobodne zemlje zivi si simbol. Ovire vse odbijas v silnem teku — V tvoj grom zamikata se breg in dol. Podoba srcem si moci titanske, mladosti slikas vekoviti up. Ti kruta si, kot plam Ijubezni prve, in strastna, kakor prvi njen poljub. In V neprestanem gromovitem padu zemljanom vzor si nevtrudljivosti — tekoc po zmagi v reki jasnomirni, odsev daru si smele vztrajnosti. Pogled nate pomlaja trudna srca, uziga nove, silnejse moci, V prihodnje dni jim kaze solncna pota, pogum V zivljenja delo pozivi. 18 Optimist. Glasi pesimistov krozijo krivicah nepopolnega sveta, bridko tarnajo in tozijo, da pod solncem sreca ni doma. Z vzdihi zalnimi modrujejo, da tezko znacaj je najti cist in vihravo se hudujejo, ces, da trosi vrag povsod zavist . . ., Meni svet je v pestrosti krasan, najsi poln je nepopolnosti. Kdor je zive dni lepoti vdan, pije polne case radosti. Kaj mi mar zavist in kup prevar, kaj mi mar minljivost sladkih nad! Ene roze, pesmi, deve car V srce dahne toplo mi pomlad. A cvetlic in pesmi in deklet lepih je in zlahtnih sto in sto! — Objokujte, pesimisti, svet, meni v njem ziveti je sladko. 19 Godec Tine. S harmoniko jaz delam cuda: vsi plesejo kot morski vali . . . Moj stric duhovnik je na Trati, moj brat pa doli v Cerkvi Mali. Nekoc sem srecal ju na solncu: oba iz svetih knjig sta brala; od njiju brz sem se poslovil, da z mrakom ne bi me obdala. Ko po koncanem tem zivljenju nas sveti Peter bo pozdravil, lepo se bo nam trem nasmehnil, a najprej mene v raj postavil ; ker dobri vedno so veseli in so po srcu vecno mladi; veselim, dobrim vsec so godci in plesejo veseli radi. Ko bodo gori znanci moji s presrecnim krikom me spoznali, ''Zagodi, Tine," bodo rekli in zaplesali kakor vali. 20 Starost in mladost. Moj ded me dan za dnem je karal: ''Samo po hribih lazis in gozdovih, studencev isces po gorovju, po starih klatis se gradovih. Po smrekah, bukvah hlace trgas, potepas s fanti se ob vodi. Pomagal bi mi lahko mnogo, pa menda moti te sam zlodi. Povem ti, fante malopridni, da mislis, molis vse premalo. Vse, kar imamo tu na svetu, dobrotno je nebo poslalo." Betezni starec s to modrostjo ni mnogo na srce mi vplival, naucil malo, nic poboljsal. On pridigal je, jaz — uzival. 21 Ob jutru. Kot sramezljiva bela nuna, V samoti rozica kleci, kadilo carobno oddaja, da V bliznje polje zadisi. K poboznosti prihaja solnce kot fant pogleda jo gorko, poljublja tiho belo sestro, da od sramu zardi mocno. 22 Vijolici. V daljnem, varnem tern zatisju, kjer cvetes Ijubo, mirno, razen mojega nobeno ni se zrlo te oko. Senca pala ni cloveska razen moje nate se — moja ne bi, da ni k tebi naslo mi nebo steze. Prvi hip je moja dusa V tvoj vtopila se obraz, in s teboj v Ijubezni bozji se zdruzila v vecni cas. 23 Poet. Kje so nade zlate, nade hitrobezne, kje mladostne roze, roze sladkonezne! Pota so nestalna, tezko je poetu — brez miru in ciljev gre po sumnem svetu. Z mislimi, zeljami isce jasne ceste, isce stalne srece, isce duse zveste. Ko vecerna zarja zarke nanj razlije, in V poljani cvetni pozabljenje pije — takrat se oddahne dusa V neizmernost, in srce odene V sladko se presernost. 24 Stvarstvo mu sepece pravljice skrivnostne, bajna noc izbrise misli mu bridkostne. 25 II. Iz nekdanjih dni. V minulih sem letih nekoc ob jezeru v mraku pocival; naznanjale zvezde so noc, po zemlji se mir je razlival. Po dolu se zibal je glas, kot flavta bil poln je miline: ''O draga, zdaj zlati je cas, oj pridi, mladost hitro mine! Z visave sneznikov lesket je srca mladostna ozarjal; Savice tajinstven sepet k Ijubezni jih je nagovarjal 29 Zakaj ? Zakaj ob tvoji strani smehlja se mi nebo, in V nedogledne dalje brezskrbno zre oko? Zakaj s teboj dviguje cvetlica lepsi vzduh, in slednji glas v prirodi sladkeje cara sluh? Zakaj brez tebe, draga, brezkoncne so noci, zakaj samotna dusa le k tebi koprni? Zakaj brez tebe, Ijuba, neznana je radost, zakaj brezsolncna, zalna brez tebe je mladost? 30 Jaz Ijubim te . . . Jaz Ijubim te, ko v pestri druzbi oci strmijo v zorni tvoj obraz; se bolj te Ijubim, kadar meni podaris mehek, Ijubezniv izraz. Ni dano mi, da ti odkrijem, kako se v te zaplelo je srce. Ljubezen moja silna je a nema - srce od dalec le Ijubiti sme. In vsa velika, lepa ta ljubezen ne bo nikoli razodeta, ko pesem, ki srce jo sebi poje in drugim nikdar ne bo peta., 31 Dekliska Ijubezen. Ogenj, daj mi tvojega plamena silno, zmagovito moc! Zvezda, daj mi onega sijaja, s kterim ti napajas noc! Roza, daj milino in vonjavo, daj carobno mi sladkost, da bo dragemu srce vzdrhtelo, da osrecim mu mladost! 32 Zvestoba. Ce bi ti prebudil se ob zori, ne da mislil bi name, vedela bi to, ker solnce bledo bi svetilo cez gore. Ce bi jaz kdaj sanjala ponoci, ne da ti bi zaijsal san, vem, prijazne zvezdice v visavah skrile bi svoj svit krasan. Ce bi eden ali drugi naju zrl spet prvega sestanka kraj, ne da sladkih bi obljub se spomnil, tema svet bi krila vekomaj. 33 Vedno ti. Ko drugi fantje govore, domislim vedno se nate — prijetneje doni tvoj glas, in silnejsi je tvoj izraz. Ko V druge fante zro oci, pred mene v duhu stopis ti — zamislim v tvojo se glavo, ki nosis jo tako lepo. Ko V mislih k drugim pohitim, za hip srce osvobodim — a misel nate je vihar, ki druge odpodi vsekdar. 34 Ljubezni hrepenenje. Kaj bi upal, kaj bi tarnal, naj karkoli je odbrano! Vendar radovednost vecna vprasa, kaj bo jutri z mano. Ali V razigrano radost pohitim, all V zalost sedem zalosti, ali V noc, od zvezdic razsvetljeno, kjer ni najsvetlejsa lepa kakor ti? Saj sem del vesoljne volje, saj i moj je delez tajna sila. E, zakaj prelepa, vredna zelja bi se mi ne izpolnila! 35 Ni dovolj Ijubezen? Radi ene zal besede bi ti mogia me zavreci? Radi nje bi mogIa res se odreci srcni sreci? Draga, ni dovolj Ijubezen? Kak nespametna bi bila roza, ce bi s solncem sprla se, z njim, ki jo Ijubece boza! Bila res bi nehvalezna, ce bi njen pogled bil jezen, ker je vcasih dan teman. Draga, ni dovolj Ijubezen? Ob njenem godu. Prisrcno drago sem povprasal: *'Kaj naj za god ti podarim V dokaz Ijubezni gorke, ki zate v srcu jo gojim?'' ''Ne daj mi zide, lepoticja, ne daj mi zlatega blaga — V najdrazjih biserih ni zame izraza gorkega srca. Ce Ijubis me, zapoj mi pesem, navdahnjeno z gorecnostjo, ki z nebom bo se poljubila in porocila z vecnostjo/' 37 Indijanski motiv. Iz dezele Modre Vode vjeto peljejo dekle; iz oci ji strela sviga, brez bojazni predse zre . . Ko cez goro zora sveti, k njej se bliza moj korak, pred sotorom moja flavta svira ji napev sladak. Niso mar ji mehki glasi, ki Ijubezen jih budi — koprni po Modri Vodi, zalost ji srce mori. 38 Poletja klic. V jeseni sva se srecala, V Ijubezen sladko se vtopila, par uric srecno sanjala, nato V slovo se poljubila. Prisel je tozni zimski cas, V zivljenje resno me izvabil. Iz misli sel je tvoj obraz, ime sem skoro ti pozabil. Spomlad je spet pridihala, zapela pesem hrepenenja, spet dusi je naslikala podobe solncnega zivljenja. Poletja blesk me zivo zdaj spominja radosti bogate: — O draga, duse moje slaj, daj, obnoviva ure zlate! 39 Zaljubljenec. Kadar ob meni drage ni, moreca v srcu bdi bolest; otozno, mrko zro oci presernost, sum veselih cest. Kaj vse trpim v Ijubezni dneh, ne boste zvedeli nikdar! Naj vse pregrne tenek smeh, kaj bi vam pravil, kaj vam mar? Nikdo tako kot jaz ne ve, kako brez nje zivim tezko, kako nemirno je srce, dokler ne stopim spet pred njo. 40 Prosnja. O zlato solnce, ki ti topli zarek za temnosivim je oblakom skrit, ti moje si srce; gore v njem zelje, nad njimi je megleni dvom razlit. Le duj mi veter, dokler skriti plamen ne dvigne me nad temni ta oblak! — O Ijuba, moje ti ime le vzdihni, in spet mi v srcu pokoj bo sladak. Ti zracnih visocin sepet si tajni, ki V beg pozenes tezke megle vse; razprsi slutnje bede in obupa, odvrni srcu ure zalostne! 41 V parku. Po klopicah sedijo parcki, po stezah se sprehajajo, pomenki o Ijubezni sreci iz gorkih src prihajajo. Midva sva cinicna in modra preblizu ne pustis roke, saljivo skusas govoriti, da zatajila bi srce. Dovolj je sale, moja lepa, ne brani se Ijubezni roz! Boris se, a v Ijubezni borbi naposled izgubila bos. 42 Flori. Ne huduj se nad menoj, o Flora, rajsi me z nasmehom spet poglej ! Jeze strup ti le temni oblicje, ki zarelo tak Ijubo je prej. Ti zalujes po nekdanjih urah, ki jih prezivela si z menoj, pravis, da te grenek kes trpinci, ker poljube sem delil s teboj. Li kaj zalega sem s tem ti storil? Saj mladost je dana za radost. Kdor Ijubezni v mladih dneh ne pije, on zapravi srcno vso sladkost, Ko samevala bos v poznih letih, carni bo spomin ti v dusi vstal — dragoceni bodo vsi poljubi, ki ti jih mladosti cas je dal. 43 Zenska. *'Ne, ne/' se ona nasmehija, ''moziti se mi ne velja, Ijubezen mi je malo mar, Ijubezen je nevarna stvar. Ne, ne! S tem ti le smesis sebe." Obrnil se je zalostno, bridkost je segla v duse dno: ''Zdravstvuj ! Nikdar ne vrnem se!" Zaklice ona: ''Oh, ne, ne! Kaj bi pocela jaz brez tebe!" 44 Nekdaj in sedaj. Ko sem v solo se pohajal in ucitelju nagajal, ni me tepel, ne ostel — med dekleta me je del. Deklic smeh je bil poreden, da sem od sramu bil beden. Tezki hipi so minili, zdaj so srcu dragi, mili. Nisem vec tak sramezljiv — svet deklet je bolj vabljiv. Zdaj vsak cas bi brez trepeta sel za kazen med dekleta. 45 III. Vernih dus dan. Bodite z nami, verne duse — ve duse, ki za druge ste zivele, za sreco bliznjega gorele, za sabo misli, vzore klene zapustile in z njimi zapocele delo, ki vnuk ga dopolnjuje smelo, clovestvu pot pripravlja bolj veselo! Bodite z nami, verne duse, ki ste V zivljenju sanjale v visave, ki sebi, drugim cuda ste obetale, a vas moril je trnjev pot nizave! Bodite z nami, verne duse, ki sle ste v bojni grom, v pekel, da rod, ki bil stoletja je na kriz razpet, bi bil krivic, okov in zmot otet, in V novem, cistem zaru prerojen, V zivljenju novem, lepsem razsvetljen[ 49 Kakor v davnih casih 1919. ' '■ < Kakor v davnih casih vesna se smeji, kakor v mladih letih vse brsti, dehti. Gledam pestre cvete, slusam pticji glas, a z nemirnim srcem pijem ves ta kras. Rad, rad bi v daljo, tja cez ocean, da bi zrl se enkrat hrib nas in ravan, videl, ce se deca srecna se igra, ce se kmetic poje, njivam se smehlja. 5G A tezi me slutnja, da je kmetic tih, da je zemlja trudna, truden sapic dih, da je deca bleda, rosno nje oko, da le skrb kraljuje s sklonjeno glavo . . . 51 Domotozje. Res, mnogo lepega je tu: mamljive roze tu cveto, in ptice radostno pojo. Premnogo bratov tu imam, dobrotna srca njih poznam; prijazni drugorodci so, smeje ustrezajo zeljam. A mnogokdaj otozen zrem deklet in fantov blisk v oceh, poslusam nem njih glasen smeh; in mnogokdaj, ko godbe svirajo in se Ijudje k zabavam zbirajo, vesele glase mi srce odklanja — Svetem Jostu, o Bohinju sanja . Zakaj, domovina, oddaljenega sina nikoli ne pozabis, zakaj ga v radosti, v bolesti skrivnostno k sebi vabis! Saj vem, kdor le za hip je zrl milino, velicino tvojo, na veke v dar ti dal je duso svojo. 52 Zalostna epistola rojakom V domovini. Ob nastopu blazene Prohibicije 1. 1919. Bremena so neznosna vas morila, bolj kakor Job ste vi trpeli; socutja nam je dusa trepetala, ko ste na tezkih ranah krvaveli. Poznana vam je temna suznost, poznana vam bridkost nevolje klete, poznana vam je moc tiranske sile, poznane vam krivice so nestete. — Se vecje, dragi, zdaj gorje je nase! Ko pesem smrti bila vam je peta, vam se ostala blaga je uteha: vsaj kaplja vina bila ni odvzeta. A mi vzdihujemo ob mizah, ce toci se, se le skrivaj, bojece; oprezno zbiramo se, kot tatovi, nikdo si ne zeli neljube jece. 53 Banketi nasi, nase veselice zaspanosti so klasicna podoba; ce se z obcutkom ''miserere" hi zapeli, bi ze okusali sladkosti groba. Noci samotne so, brezkoncne, podnevi megla solnca zar zagrinja — V brezupnem hrepenenju dusa plaka, ko se prelepih ''mokrih" dni spominja. To je usoda, ki nas bica, a zdrayo je za uma modrovanje, za ''suhe'' Jere sola preizborna: V bridkostih se rodi spoznanje. O bratje mili v domovini, zdaj vi socutje obudite! Svobodi ''suhi'' enega na cast izpijte, a zraven se prevec nam ne smejite! Izseljenci. O domovina, kaj si zagresila? Procesija gre za procesijo . . . O ti, ki nam tako si draga, mila, zakaj tako je v tebi zalostno? Ah, glad in skrb na tuje sta nas gnala, naprej drzala pot je, ne nazaj — bolestna solza je v oceh igrala, ko zadnjic zrli smo prelestni kraj. In sli smo v temne gozde, v sumna mesta, na sirna polja, v zlate rudnike: V mogocne dalje pelje nasa cesta, od New Yorka do Kalifornije. Visoke Koloradske so planine, Njagare silne vode hvali svet — krasnejse nasih so vrhov pecine, milejsi je Pericnika sepet ... Zivljenja novega se tu ucimo, V novo^ti se zamikajo oci, a kmalu si spoznanje priborimo, da brez potu medu, cekinov ni. 55 Prav radi druzimo se domacini, najbolj nas bratov glasi zvesele. Na glasu smo povsod v tujini, da rod marljiv je, zlato mu srce. Vendar, zakaj se vedno, domovina, izganjas v tuje dalje zarod svoj, kdo kriv, da blesk tvoj, tvoja velicina le beden, siromasen da obstoj ? O troimeni bratje, dovolj bogate so vase gore, polja in morje! Ne slutite, da kljuc do dobe zlate drzi Ijubezni polno le srce? Ta rod nas, ki podaril je Slovanstvu po duhu velikanov castni roj, naj se na tleh domacih kot v pregnanstvu V bridkostih bije smrtonosni boj? Ta rod, ki zvesto sluzil je prosveti, duha si bistril in blazil srce, ne smel, ne mogel castno bi ziveti, uzivati svobodna polja in gore?! 56 Vtopite se v Ijubezen neomajno, ki vam rodila bo prezlahten sad, spojila V harmonijo, z lucjo bajno, Ljubljano belo, Zagreb, Beligrad. Takrat, o dom, se bomo spet vrnili, sestali v hisi se ocetovi, pri belem kruhu srecni se solzili, zivljenja lepsi dan pozdravili. Takrat najlepse roze nam pokazi, takrat nam najsvetlejse solnce daj, brezmejno hrepenenje utolazi, naj duso spet omami tvoj sijaj ! Dotlej, domovje drago, zivi mirno, da nam ozdravis od pretezkih ran, utesi kmalu duso vecnoverno, pospesi srecnega sestanka dan! 57 Ivanu Cankarju v spomin. Oh, Ivan, greh odpusti! Res je, da smo tak malo te Ijubili, da smo za cudezno lepoto zasmeh in bic ti naklonili. Saj ves, vzorni duh v visavah, da dolgo razumeli nismo Ijubezni, ki si z njo ustvarjal Slovencem novo sveto pismo. Kot ti le malokdo je Ijubil nas lepi dom in govorico — nikdo tako se ni boril se za V prah teptanih cast, pravico. Odpusti! Ze zari spoznanje. Spomin tvoj plamen nov uziga: V zivljenje lepse in cistejse tvoj plemeniti duh nas dviga. Globoko V dusi rod bo cuval tvoj dar Ijubezni in resnice, da skoro bedni Hlapec Jernej ugleda svetlo luc Pravice. £8 Ruskemu pevcu. F. Saljapinu. Kdo umeje tvojo moc sijajno, tvojih prs glasove polne, ciste! Duso dvigas nam v dezelo bajno in nas delas srecne optimiste. Kdo pozabil bi carobne glase, ko V nianse strastne ti prodiras, ko mogocnost tvojih zvokov rase, ko plamtece cute v nas ubiras! Ko poklanjas nam z razkosno mero bisere slovanskega cutenja, potrjujes nam presladko vero V zarjo vseslovanskega vstajenja. Dar ti redek je nebo poslalo, da nam srcno polnis z njim praznoto. Naj bi dolgo ti moci dajalo, petja nam razkrivati krasoto! 59 SLOVENSKE PESMI V ANGLESCINL ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS OF SLOVENE POEMS Naslednji prevodi naj sluzijo kot nekak donesek k morebitni poznejsi, popolnejsi antologiji slovenskih pesmi V anglescini. V prvi vrsti zelim, da bi ti prevodi nasim mladim, tukaj rojenim Slovencem vsaj deloma odkrili lepoto slovenske poezije, ki je vredna, da jo vzljubijo. I. Z, Beneath The Window (POD OKNOM) France Preseren Moon is shining, Clock is striking Weary, tardy hours of night. Lately risen Love's afflictions All the night give no repose. You Tm chiding. Lovely maiden. You with unrelenting heart! You beguile me . .And bereave me Of my peaceful sleep at home. Your enchanting Face does ever Stealthily to me appear; My heart glowing Ever sighing Pines and yearns to have you near. 63 Come to window, No one gazes But the silent stars on high; Come, appear, dear. And assure me That your heart disdains me not Hear my sighing. Beckon to me If, my dear, you fear to speak. — Clock is striking. She appears not, What am I, poor wight, to do! In her bower Peep and tell me, Stars, if she is slumb'ring there; Does she hear me. Or deceive me, Does she for another pine. 64 If she slumbers, Blessings on her; If she cares not, let it be; If another She is loving, 'Reft of her, my heart will break. 65 To Strings (STRUNAM^ France Preseren Strings, give forth your mournful music, Song, give forth your saddest moan; Pour your balm upon my grieving, To her cruel heart make known : How my cheeks are growing pallid, How my eyes are growing dim. How my bitter tears are flowing. Born of Love's relentless whim; How my heart knows only yearning, Knows but passionate distress. How unknown to it is gladness. How unknown is happiness; How her face is e'er before me. Haunting me wheree'er I go. How her lovely, blooming features Ever taunt, torment me so ; 66 And how ye, that gladly loved one Would continue to adore, Must, if soon her heart relent not, Silence keep forevermore. Strings, with such imploring wailings Bring to her your gentle art, If it lie within your power. Rouse compassion in her heart. 67 Whither? (KAM?) France Preseren When rushing on in stormy wrath Friends ask me: Whither speeds thy path? O rather ask the gloomy cloud, rather ask the sea wave loud When master storm with might profound Drives on and madly hurls them round. The cloud knows not, nor wave, nor I Where goal of my despair may lie. 1 only feel, I only know That I before her may not go And that on earth there is no place Where I my woe could e'er efface. 68 The Sailor (MORNAR) France Preseren Farewell, unfaithful maiden, The boat for me is waiting. With ringing shot it calls. Tread all your ways in safety, My hope has fled forever. Another thee enthralls. To God I gave my promise My very soul to forfeit Should e'er my love decrease. Our hands were clasped so warmly, You vov/ed to mighty Heaven That love would never cease. Broad roads of foaming waters Brought me to distant cities. Replete with maidens fair; The beauty of their faces. Their forms of snowy whiteness Gave to my heart no care. And when the southern breezes The sails of white expanded, My boat sped home again. I found my trusted sweetheart In wedlock with another, — God knows my suff ring then. With tightened sails to billows Let us give all our trusting, How limpid is the brine! How far it may be trusted Is known to sailors daring. But maids, — who can divine? The roar of surging storm-waves Disheartens not the sailor. Nor death can him dismay. The flood engulfs remembrance; Love's pangs and gloomy sorrows Awakens evVy day. 70 O'er sea my boat is gliding, Farewell, unfaithful maiden, A hundred joys be thine! May happiness befriend thee. My hope has fled forever. Away to foamy brine! 71 The Unlawful Mother (NEZAKONSKA MATI) France Preseren Wherefore didst thou come into my life, Beautiful babe, lovable babe? I am but a youthful maid. Mother am I with disgraceful name. Father has cursed me, beat me too. Mother with tears has bemoaned my fate; Friends have derided me for my shame, Strangers have pointed fingers at me. He who alone was my beloved. He who is earthly father thine. Whither he sped God only knows. He is ashamed of thee and me. Wherefore didst thou come into my life, Beautiful babe, lovable babe? Whether thou shouldst have been or not, I cherish thee with tender love. 72 When in thine eye serene I gaze, Beauties of heaven I seem to see, When I behold thy smiHng face, All scorn and suffring and woe I forget. He who gives life to birds 'neath the sky May He with happiness fill thy days! Whether thou shouldst have been or not, Ever will I love thee tenderly. 73 Sonnet France Preseren I dreamt that you and I in paradise Drank endless happiness and ravishment: Forgotten were the hours that here are spent, Where time and place our diff rences devise. With Laura there you sat, life's greatest prize. Each to the other eager ear you lent, Each sweetly spoke of what life's pages meant, How poet's love one's name may aggrandize. And there upon Saint Michael's scale we laid The sonnets Petrarch sang and those that I, Alas, my little bowl flew rather high. But after def'rence due to him we paid, Her virtues added were and yours, and lol My weighty bowl as his was just as low. 74 Memento Mori! France Preseren The length of life for us but brief is here. What countless folk beneath the tomb-stones lie! Lo, night and day the grave is waiting nigh, But time and place unknown are e'en to seer. The beauteous face grim death does not revere, Nor golden treasures may deliv'rance buy. Nor may the poet's sigh, the throng's glad cry Repel the thief of life, of aspect drear. May he, who pleasure ever contemplates. And of frivolity and vainness prates. Think well: death's harvest ripens constantly. Mayhap that he, to-day with mirth aglow. To us to-mxorrow will with trumpet blow And sound: Memento mori! silently. 7S He Comes Not (NJEGA NI) Simon Gregorcic 'Mid her flowers in the garden She was singing merrily, When her loved one stepped before her, Cheeks of her blushed flamingly. Give a flow'r to me, fair maiden, That I pin it on my breast. Just a flower for remembrance Ere I leave for distant quest. She gave him her prettiest posy, With the posy gave her heart. Lonely she stood in the garden. He sped to a foreign part. 'Mid her flowers in the garden She was singing merrily, — Why is she not now among them. Weeding, singing merrily? 76 Maiden sweet her head is bending, Face is pale, though once aglow. Heart of her is sad and dreary. In a stream her tear-drops flow. Longing o'er the hedge she gazes, - Many people hurry by; — Maiden pining, maiden pining. Her beloved comes not nigh. 77 Looking Into An Innocent Eye (POOLED V NEDOLZNO OKO) Simon Gregorcic Oh fear me not, oh fear me not, Thou angel gentle, innocent. Come hither, sit beside me. From eye to eye behold me. Your glance is pure, your eye serene, In it reflects the azure sky. In it there beam reflections Of days, with joy resplendent. You bring me wondrous memories Of days that were as yours are now, You bring me recollections Of youth that knows no sorrow. You bring to me the charming years, For me the years of song and bloom, Twas like a spring-time garden, A paradise of gladness. 78 Alas! My paradise is lost, Its bliss I never can recall, Its doors are closed forever, Gone are the golden hours. Though paradise of joy is locked, It seems to me I see revealed. While eyes of yours beholding, The radiance of heaven. My heart divinely tender grows. Entwined in mem'ries of the past, Entwined in days of rapture — O time sublime, enchanting! 79 Our Star (NASA ZVEZDA) Simon Gregorcic In the sky a star was beaming, With its beam it led our race; Brighter seemed to us its shining Than all lights in lofty space. But, alas, o'er hill it passes, Sinks beyond the gloomy lane. I now ask the radiant millions: Will it e'er appear again? Oh, the glowing stars are silent, No response they seem to know, From the azure dome up yonder Mutely they reflect their glow. Come, O Star, with all thy splendor. Gaze upon us with thy rays. May my home again behold thee, Golden star of happy days! 80 The Broken Blossom (IZGUBLJENI CVET) Simon Gregorcic Last night her sweet singing With nightingale vied, Why does she this morning Appear to have cried? Last night, like a flower, Her cheeks were in bloom. Why do they this morning Appear in deep gloom? She had a wee garden, A garden so fair, When she rose this morning, Her garden was bare. Oh, blossoms are tender. O'er night they may fade — Your loss e'en chagrins me, O negligent maid. Down yonder goes someone So bold and so spry. He plucked a rare blossom — How free is his cry! 81 Advance! y^ (NAPREJ!) Simon Jenko Advance, ye Slavic standards, To battle, sturdy race, For weal of native country The deadly thunder face! With arms and manly courage The foe with might defy, And write in gore the justice For which our people cry. Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp . . . Mother dear was sadly pleading As she tenderly embraced me. Sweetheart weepingly caressed me: O beloved, here remain! Fare thee well, O dearest mother, Native land is now my mother. And my sweetheart fame and honor. Forward, forward to the strife! 82 Samo Simon Jenko Where is earth the tombs concealing Where the heroes of our homeland Gently sleep in sleep of death? No one knows where they repose? Head bowed down and kneeling, I should like, O valiant Same, To devoutly kiss the sod Where thy valiant body lies. Over thy remains thus kneeling, I would strive to feel such power, And in me such love create As adorned thy noble heart. Voice of mine would be uplifted To bestir Slovenes to glory; Thus the race thy worth would know, And would worthy be of thee. 83 The Adriatic Sea (JADRANSKO MORJE) Simon Jenko Roar on, waters Adriatic, Once we proudly called thee Slavic. On thy waves a fleet of oak Bore the offsprings of our race. Gallant cities of our fathers Flourished then along thy waters, And their vessels then disclosed Sails that streaming bore their name. Hush now, sea, we pray thee, tell us! Do our fleets lie at thy bottom. Didst thou cast them on the cliffs That no longer they appear? In the sea they are not buried. Nor the cliffs caused their destruction, That no longer they appear Was but wrought by hostile sword. 84 Parting (RAZSTANEK) Fran Levstik To shower glances upon two Can neither wholesome be nor true: It can but cause the heart to rue. That even he, though now your pride, Your ways in tears may never chide, I now forever step aside. And so to you must now come I — O maid, look not into my eye! God knows if it be wet or dry? Though it be dry, though it be wet, May heart of yours feel no regret; Give me your hand, O maid, — forget! In silence I give mine to you, Your lovely face once more I view — And now forevermore adieu! 85 The Heart -- A Riddle (SRCE — ZASTAVICA) Anton Medved Why dream and dream, my weary heart, Why not take heed? Is time not rife To quell old passionate desires That would again steal forth to life? You bid old fires flame again, You yearn for heedless, reckless ways. Could you but rouse from fires dead One glowing spark of youthful days! No storm has brought you wisdom's thought, All grief, remorse have gone for naught. Forgotten are the thorny wreaths That ardent youth for you has wrought. Your passion burns like embers hot, While quelling it you bid it glow. What riddle deep you are, my heart, Tween heav'n and earth your courses flow. 86 To A Wild-Rose (ROll) Anton Medved Flower wild, what fate awaits you When from bud to life you spring, When the sun's warm rays caress you, When you blush and fragrance bring? Soon perhaps a lovely maiden Will espy you, pluck with zest, And with gladsome smile then pin you On her lover's manly breast. Or perchance to youthful widow You her sorrow will allay When her hand so white and loving You on husband's grave will lay. Or mayhap a cruel rain-storm Will uproot you, stem and all. And disperse your tender petals — No more wild-wood to enthrall. Or perhaps till late in autumn You will bloom 'neath chilly sky, And will thus unknown and lonely Wane, like unto me, and die. 87 Brooding (DUMA) Oton Zupancic Unto a song I hearkened and heard a singing voice, Voice of a man, as if in answer to a woman's voice; I heard how my heart was ringing. Song of a man and answer to a woman's song: Midst fields you sing me a song all verdant, Song of winds and leaves and grass and sun o'er grass. Song of hurrying and song of standing waves, Song of silvery and golden waves — Song of rivulets and song of grains. **As if with ribbons these villages are tied to the roads, Over roofs the church, its head uplifted, Gazes down upon the toils of men, Measuring their hours, apportioning their work. Houses are quaint, windows are dainty, from windows Down the wall the carnation flows green, red is the foam Of this sunny and peaceful cascade — A shrine to the lads who pass it by day, Their secret shrine by night — '' You sing; and your eyes are gladdened by the variegated scarfs, The glowing, ruddy faces and the gem- white laughter. The gestures angular, the awkward steps and the rustic abashments; Coarse oaths are like wine to your ear, A comparison bold — a gold-piece 'tis worth. Midst fields you sing me a song all verdant, You sing and invite: "Oaks gigantic stand beyond the fields and combat the storm-wind, Dreams of centuries rock their tops in distant murmurs, Each spring the new lends ear to mysteries of long ago; 89 And you toil far, far from home and stifle your soul — ^ I am among roses a rose: among them I mingle — You could pass by and know me not from my companions.'" Midst fields you sing me a song all verdant,, You shout and invite, You call to the open. Look, my pride breaks forth, with it a song, Daringly, boldly it looks in the eye of your song. To your song prefer I the song of cities. The song of thickly walled streets and steps that hurry at their base. The rhythm of arms and shoulders that lift up stone and log. The measure of railways, beneath all stars alike. The course of grand rivers, adorned with weighty cargoes. The buzz of wires that bind the north and the south And lead the voice of the west to the ear of the east. 90 (I am fain to put my ear to the telegraph pole : In service it stands, immovable courier, and sings and sings,, Its turbid murmurings tidings absorbing and into distance dispatching — Thus the poet's heart sings with ideas that onward speed In age electrical above his head.) Where is the foreign clime? How stifles it my soul? Mothers I saw — just as in our land they watched o'er the cradle, About their breasts the babe felt for milk: Men I saw in their struggle for scanty bread Mighty and gloomy. And for love; I too was among them; Surging blood I saw, Passion and strife; Country I saw and countryman on his own soil,. To him it was dearest as ours to us; I looked at the land — 'twas beautiful as ours^ Worthy of the same love as ours; I saw a house along the road and I, a wayfarer, turned in — 91 Wine and bread were given me and a kindly word, The last I relished more than the wine and bread. In the surging life of great cities was I but a wave, Oh, and my heart beat fast In a mighty measure, a thousand times quickened; Into a new life the soul of the rustic leapt. And a new faith embraced his heart. Foreheads I saw: as if turtles crept under their skin. Though but thought did wrinkle them so; Cheeks I saw: they were furrowed with seeds for the future; Hands to machines were in service all day. But in the evening the sooty forehead illumed. And the eye flitted o'er landscapes bright. Dreaming daring dreams of the future. Following the sweeping gestures of the orator And believing for a generation yet unborn . . I heard the battle cry from Manchuria, In Paris I heard a hundred diverse echoes. I beheld the sculptor's chisel; lovingly Like a kiss it sped o'er the white marble. 92 Gently kissing off bit by bit from the rock Till it shyly breathed with life. I saw the thinker: laws he wrote Not for earthly people — for stars he mapped out courses, In the universe discrepancies he detected, New worlds his reckoning demanded, ''Be!'' said he — and night unto him a new world gave . . Here, here the arteries of life together run, Here of the universe the destinies are spun, I love these great cities for their bustle and roar — Liberty, goals of the future over them soar . • I heard how my heart was ringing: Sacred art thou, O land, blessed he for whom thou bearest — With oil thou soothest his roughened palm, Thou fillest his bins and with wine repayest his toil, Hay and after-math thou givest the ox that drew the harrow And trod before the plough and sweat with the ploughman; Into the cups of flowers thou pourest honey that the bee, 93 By secret care impelled, may come in the spring to labor for Christmas; The cold the housewife does not fear, her household Has a two-ply garment, hear you the carders On the block? And the warp on the loom awaits the weft. Oh, there the holy ghost spreads out his wings o'er the table, Blessed is the toil and blessed the rest for the household. I walked about our land and drank in its marvels, How I loved it! Like the uncovered breasts of a virgin Breathed her fields 'neath the glowing sun an exquisite perfume; 1 submerged myself in the billows of her grains, Alone, alone with myself, hidden only with my thoughts In the speechless company of youthful yearning. Youthful indeed — that is to say: in the heart of all life. Its entire breadth my dreams was dreaming, Sky and mountain to my wishes responded; 94 The lark — the singing rocket — sprinkled songs: Did he hear my heart and learned from it to sing? O mead, didst thou see the blossoms of my soul And gathered them up, and thus adorned thy soil? Your hand, O father, revealed to me the beauties of the land And — wonder upon wonder — flung aside the curtains of nature; You showed me the fruits of the fields, you led me into the woods, Explained the secrets of voices and the families of trees, And we knew where blackbirds, where thrushes kept their young, Where the goblin dwelt, where the fairies hid in the forest. On Saint Gregory's day — father, you recall? — the birdies were mating, Back of the schoolyard in the hedge they were feasting and drinking; You and I across the way were listening . . *'Hear you chirp-chirp? 95 Which means 'to your health' — the youthful toastmaster toasted." And when the guests flew away from the hedge with a scream, By the sleeve you pulled me and told me to search. And — with wonder and fear in my heart — I went to look in the hedge, After the birds and their feast I went gleaning: Behold, 'neath the hornbeam bush — pretty roly-polies. Sweet wine, johnnybread, figs and other sweets "But will they not return?" — ""No, all this they left to you. That which you tossed them in winter they now give back.''" O native home, O shelter paternal! To the humble thou art a castle, to the wayfarer a solace: The dove from a foreign sky flutters back. Yearning shows it the way and the place; Why can the swallow the southern summer not endure? The mem'ry of the nest transports it o'er sea, o'er mountain. 96 The doves o'er the burning abode hover enthralled . . My thoughts grieve desolate o'er the devastated hearth . . There came a sombre day; we sped in all directions, Wherever drove us the force of life and the heart's unrest; The swallows 'neath the roof remained in shelter safe — Dispelled were we and scattered about the world . . Now youth has bowed its flow'ry head, But a secret thought incarnated a soaring bird, 'Twas no longer the dove that flies about the fire, 'Twas an eagle whose wings are the storm. Whose eyes are lightnings, speeding into the dismal distance. They sought, they found; not home, nay more: the homeland . . I walked about our land and drank in its woes. Sacred art thou, O land, blessed he for whom thou bearest; — 97 There are fields that I know — whose are they glittering in the sun? The plough and hoe you set aside, beneath the sod you crept, Old man, and the cross on your grave is rusting and bending; Your son has buried himself alive underground — in America he digs, Still in the shaft the dawn of fields his sullen thoughts illuminates. His son no longer will know them, nor dream of them. I heard a widow's wail: ''My Mate, oh, my Mate:" The big bell was ringing — ''My Mate, oh, my Mate!" Hamburg, Hamburg! cries the bell . . There her son sank into death. Not a tear was shed for him. Not an epitaph marks his tomb. Hamburg! Her thought gropes round. Knowing not whither to fly, Where to alight on the grave That she might shed a tear thereon. 98 If I had then been God, — My Mate, oh, my Mate! Into the grave I should have cried: ^^My Mate, rise, my Mate!'' Hamburg, Hamburg! — The big bell Sings and sighs. Wails and cries. Falling heavily on her head. Hamburg, Hamburg! Darkly falls. Blurs and drawls. Everything palls into gloominess, heaven and earth. If thou hadst heard then, O God, — "My Mate, oh, my Mate;" Thou wouldst have shouted into his grave: "My Mate, rise, my Mate!" And there are shoulders and backs like cliffs, The neck — place a burden thereon, oppressor, — Will carry it and will not bend; And hearts that are peaceful and strong — Their pride is without words; As if they had not been borne by mothers, 99 As if from mountain crags they had issued forth, Into the world they must, and a foreign land boasts Of the work of their hands; There in America, there in Westphalia Have we lost them — no more will reach them Our eye . . Where art t'hou, O native land? On these fields? Still 'neath Triglav, about the Karavanken? Art thou midst furnaces, art thou in mines? Here? Beyond the ocean? And thou hast no bounds? Once I wished that thou wouldst broaden forth. That thou wouldst extend o'er the world — Lo, 'tis plain now: mighty and boundless thou art. Into the distance like seed thou scatterest thy brood. Wilt thou like swallows again call them home? Reunite them like doves 'neath thy roof? 100 Or will foreign glory beguile them, Ne'er allow them to return to thee? Where art thou, O native land? On these fields? Still 'neath Triglav, about the Karavanken? Art thou midst furnaces, art thou in mines? Here? Beyond the ocean? And thou hast no bounds? I apprehend thee, I feel thee. The poet's dream For many long years hath over thee hovered, Watching and listening and weeping and hoping, Questioning itself for thy secret. The mussel, deep in the sea, grown into pain intense, Into a gem all its pain hath contracted — O poet's heart — what hath gathered in thee? O poet's heart — it giveth thee grief. 101 Sails (JADRA) Oton Zupancic Sails, O sails on water's surface, Many valiant souls beneath them, With each sail an ardent yearning. With each soul a destiny. Verily I say, O brethren: Tis not in the sun, nor wind. Nor in seas of stormy billows. Fate lies but in valiant souls. 102 A Maiden's Song (JAZ SE TE BOM SPOMNILA . . .) Silvin Sardenko I am going to think of. you Oftentimes, in many a place: When the mower I'll behold, Mowing meads with careless grace; When the hunter's shot Til hear. Ringing through the woody dell; When the vulture Til behold In whose clutch a good bird fell. 103 At Dusk (O MRAKU) Anton Funtek From yonder steeple chimes the bell When dusk creeps over hill and dell. Ring on, ring on, from belfry height. Of home recall the mem'ries bright! Ring on, ring on, with sweet refrain, And sing to me o'er foreign plain; Although in anguish throbs my heart, To me thou ever welcome art. To me thy ringing seems to tell That I recline in native dell, Where known to me is ev'ry face, Where friendliness the heart doth grace. So let me hearken to thy chime. Oh soothe my heart in foreign clime; Thou evening bell in yonder height, Of home recall the mem'ries bright! 104 In Distant Land (NA TUJIH TLEH) Anton Funtek Murmur, murmur, verdant forest, Shady wood on foreign shore. Seems to me a song comes stealing, Like a song in days of yore. Thoughts of mine roam in the distance, Dreamingly I close my eyes: Ah, again I see my forest, Wafting o'er me murmurs, sighs. Ah, I see my native meadows. None on earth with them can vie; Fields I see and golden hillocks. All are as in days gone by. Murmur, murmur, verdant forest. Sing of youth your song so grand — Oh that you could know my longing As I pine in distant land! 105 KAZALO I. Stran Zelje 5 Metulju •. . . 6 V tezkih urah 7 S planine hudournik 8 V jeseni 9 Svarilo starca 10 V zrcalu 11 Slikarju 12 Srcu 13 Starka 14 V tihem zimskem veceru 15 Snezinke 16 V pomladnem jutru 17 Njagara 18 Optimist 19 Codec Tine 20 Starost in mladost 21 Ob jutru 22 Vijolici . . 23 Poet 24—25 II. Iz nekdanjih dni 29 Zakaj? 30 Jaz Ijubim te 31 Stran Dekliska Ijubezen 32 Zvestoba 33 Vedno ti 34 Ljubezni hrepenenje 35 Nl dovolj Ijubezen? 36 Ob njenem godu 37 Indijanski motiv 38 Poletja klic 39 Zaljubljenec ; 40 Prosnja 41 V parku 42 Flori . 43 Zenska 44 Nekdaj in sedaj 45 III. Vernih dus dan . 49 Kakor v davnih casih . 50 — 51 Domotozje 52 Zalostna epistola 53 — 54 Izseljenci 55 — 56 — 57 Ivanu Cankarju 58 Ruskemu pevcu 59 SLOVENSKE PESMI V ANGLEscINL Beneath The Window ...... 63—64—65 To Strings 6Q — 67 Whither? 68 The Sailor 69—70—71 The Unlawful Mother 72—73 Sonnet . 74 Memento Mori! 75 He Comes Not 76—77 Looking Into An Innocent Eye 78 — 79 Our Star 80 The Broken Blossom 81 Stran Advance! 82 Samo 83 The Adriatic Sea 84 Parting 85 The Heart—A Riddle 86 To A Wild-Rose 87 Brooding 88—101 Sails .102 A Maiden's Song 103 At Dusk 104 In Distant Land 105 ''AMERISKA DOMOVINA'' 6119 ST. CLAIR AVENUE N. E CLEVELAND, OHIO ' -i , "I",, if: 4';, !..•'■!: I,.. ..mil' ■•1 / .M'.;:'' ''< y. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS ,1 i.f ' ' \ i, DDDEbEIEEbl i'- I'M i!. .I'll «a!i; , !'.<./ ..i' *J, ' " .'-'m, ' c i^'ii 'jit! irJ''.:,ll ,li