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Lament XIII → ← Lament XI

Spis treści

      Jan KochanowskiLamentsLament XIItłum. Dorothea Prall

      I think no father under any sky
      More fondly loved a daughter than did I,
      And scarcely ever has a child been born
      Whose loss her parents could more justly mourn.
      Unspoiled and neat, obedient at all times,
      She seemed already versed in songs and rhymes,
      And with a highborn courtesy and art,
      Though but a babe, she played a maiden's part.
      Discreet and modest, sociable and free
      From jealous habits, docile, mannerly,
      She never thought to taste her morning fare
      Until she should have said her morning prayer;
      She never went to sleep at night until
      She had prayed God to save us all from ill.
      She used to run to meet her father when
      He came from any journey home again;
      She loved to work and to anticipate
      The servants of the house ere they could wait
      Upon her parents. This she had begun
      When thirty months their little course had run.
      So many virtues and such active zeal
      Her youth could not sustain; she fell from weal
      Ere harvest. Little ear of wheat, thy prime
      Was distant; 'tis before thy proper time
      I sow thee once again in the sad earth,
      Knowing I bury with thee hope and mirth.
      For thou wilt not spring up when blossoms quicken
      But leave mine eyes forever sorrow-stricken.
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