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Lament XVIII → ← Lament XVI

Spis treści

      Jan KochanowskiLamentsLament XVIItłum. Dorothea Prall

      God hath laid his hand on me:
      He hath taken all my glee,
      And my spirit's emptied cup
      Soon must give its life-blood up.
      If the sun doth wake and rise,
      If it sink in gilded skies,
      All alike my heart doth ache,
      Comfort it can never take.
      From my eyelids there do flow
      Tears, and I must weep e'en so
      Ever, ever. Lord of Light,
      Who can hide him from thy sight!
      Though we shun the stormy sea,
      Though from war's affray we flee,
      Yet misfortune shows her face
      Howsoe'er concealed our place.
      Mine a life so far from fame
      Few there were could know my name;
      Evil hap and jealousy
      Had no way of harming me.
      But the Lord, who doth disdain
      Flimsy safeguards raised by man,
      Struck a blow more swift and sure
      In that I was more secure.
      Poor philosophy, so late
      Of its power wont to prate,
      Showeth its incompetence
      Now that joy proceedeth hence.
      Sometimes still it strives to prove
      Heavy care it can remove;
      But its little weight doth fail
      To raise sorrow in the scale.
      Idle is the foolish claim
      Harm can have another name:
      He who laughs when he is sad,
      I should say was only mad.
      Him who tries to prove our tears
      Trifles, I will lend mine ears;
      But my sorrow he thereby
      Doth not check, but magnify.
      Choice I have none, I must needs
      Weep if all my spirit bleeds.
      Calling it a graceless part
      Only stabs anew my heart.
      All such medicine, dear Lord,
      Is another, sharper sword.
      Who my healing would insure
      Will seek out a gentler cure.
      Let my tears prolong their flow.
      Wisdom, I most truly know,
      Hath no power to console:
      Only God can make me whole.
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