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Coleridge, Samuel Taylor: Mraz u ponoć (Frost at Midnight in Serbian)

Portre of Coleridge, Samuel Taylor

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Frost at Midnight (English)

The Frost performs its secret ministry,

Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cry

Came loud – and hark, again! loud as before.

The inmates of my cottage, all at rest,

Have left me to that solitude, which suits

Abstruser musings: save that at my side

My cradled infant slumbers peacefully.

'Tis calm indeed! so calm, that it disturbs

And vexes meditation with its strange

And extreme silentness. Sea, hill, and wood,

This populous village! Sea, and hill, and wood,

With all the numberless goings-on of life,

Inaudible as dreams! the thin blue flame

Lies on my low-burnt fire, and quivers not;

Only that film, which fluttered on the grate,

Still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing.

Methinks, its motion in this hush of nature

Gives it dim sympathies with me who live,

Making it a companionable form,

Whose puny flaps and freaks the idling Spirit

By its own moods interprets, every where

Echo or mirror seeking of itself,

And makes a toy of Thought.

 

                             But O! how oft,

How oft, at school, with most believing mind,

Presageful, have I gazed upon the bars,

To watch that fluttering stranger ! and as oft

With unclosed lids, already had I dreamt

Of my sweet birth-place, and the old church-tower,

Whose bells, the poor man's only music, rang

From morn to evening, all the hot Fair-day,

So sweetly, that they stirred and haunted me

With a wild pleasure, falling on mine ear

Most like articulate sounds of things to come!

So gazed I, till the soothing things, I dreamt,

Lulled me to sleep, and sleep prolonged my dreams!

And so I brooded all the following morn,

Awed by the stern preceptor's face, mine eye

Fixed with mock study on my swimming book:

Save if the door half opened, and I snatched

A hasty glance, and still my heart leaped up,

For still I hoped to see the stranger's face,

Townsman, or aunt, or sister more beloved,

My play-mate when we both were clothed alike!

 

Dear Babe, that sleepest cradled by my side,

Whose gentle breathings, heard in this deep calm,

Fill up the intersperséd vacancies

And momentary pauses of the thought!

My babe so beautiful! it thrills my heart

With tender gladness, thus to look at thee,

And think that thou shalt learn far other lore,

And in far other scenes! For I was reared

In the great city, pent 'mid cloisters dim,

And saw nought lovely but the sky and stars.

But thou, my babe! shalt wander like a breeze

By lakes and sandy shores, beneath the crags

Of ancient mountain, and beneath the clouds,

Which image in their bulk both lakes and shores

And mountain crags: so shalt thou see and hear

The lovely shapes and sounds intelligible

Of that eternal language, which thy God

Utters, who from eternity doth teach

Himself in all, and all things in himself.

Great universal Teacher! he shall mould

Thy spirit, and by giving make it ask.

 

Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,

Whether the summer clothe the general earth

With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing

Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch

Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch

Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eave-drops fall

Heard only in the trances of the blast,

Or if the secret ministry of frost

Shall hang them up in silent icicles,

Quietly shining to the quiet Moon.



Uploaded byP. T.
Source of the quotationhttp://www.poetryfoundation.org

Mraz u ponoć (Serbian)

Mraz obavlja svoj obred svet i tih,

bez vetra, sam. O, počuj sovin krik

gde, prodoran, san opet para zrak!

Na počinak su krenuli većsvi

u domu mom, i ja ostadoh sam,

sa mišlju koja ima čudan put,

kraj sina svog što u kolevci spi.

I svud je mir! baš tako potpun mir,

da mis΄o mi se od njeg zbuni sva

i svoj pobrka tok. Breg, more, gaj

to zaselak je moj! Breg, more, gaj

i bezbrojnih života mnogi niz

al nečujan ko san! Gle, plamen plav

na zapretanoj vatri stoji prav,

 a pokraj njega užareni zrak 1

sav treperi ko da je živa stvar,

i bilo mu, u gluvom muku tom,

ko nejasno da oseća sa mnom,

no neki drug uz mene što je živ,

al slabašan mu svaki treptaj bled

ko da se sa njim igra dokon Duh

i u tom bïlu svoj ogleda hir,

pa igračku od Misli pravi on.

 

E, nekada kad bejah vrlo mlad,

u školi još, ja probdeo bih noć

sve šiljeći u taj treptavi zrak

i namernika čekajući svog:

pa tako buljeć snevao bih san

o selu mom i o zvoniku tom

što sirotinji pruža svirku svu,

i još o tome kako njegov zvon

sav umilan na vašar zove nas

po ceo dan dok ja mu gutam glas

ko čar života budućega mog!

I piljio bih sve dok prizor taj

u san ne svede, tu da snevam još!

A sutradan bih učio sav snen,

na učitelja strogog misleć tad,

a knjiga bi se njihala ko val.

Al čim bi vrata odškrinuo ko,

sav veseo bih pogledô u njih,

ko da ću videt namernika tu,

il druga svog il sestru dražu još,

i na njoj kaput isti kao moj.

 

O, sine moj što u kolevci spiš,

što dah ti nežni sred tišine te

sam ispunjava one stanke sve

što u mislima načini ih um!

O, sine moj! O, taj lepi lik

sve samu radost pruža srcu mom!

Još većih znanja upoznaćeš krug,

još veći prostor, znaj! Jer moj je vek

sred zgradurina protekao sav,

i parče neba bi mi radost sva.

Al ti, moj sine, hrlićeš ko zrak

kroz litice, uz drevnog brda vrh,

nad jezerom i uz oblak rub

što nalik su na vode, stenje to;

i videćeš, i tu ćeš čuti  tad

čar životni i neshvaćeni zvuk

tog jezika što tvoj ga znade bog

što oduvek u svemu sebe zna,

i sve u sebi proučiti zna.

Taj učitelj će isklesat΄ tvoj duh,

i ti ćeš kroz njeg zahtevati još.

 

I slatka tebi biće svaka dob;

ka premalaćene nosi zelen list;

kad ptica poje tamo gde je sneg;

kad mahovina krije voćke dub

dok na suncu se puši kućni krov

i s njega kaplje rastopljeni led

uz zvuk što vetru bolesnom je znan;

kad mraz obavlja sveti obred svoj,

i mnogu kap u leden veže niz

što sija tih uz tih mesečev sjaj.

 

 

1 U svim krajevima Engleske, taj treperavi zrak nazivaju putnikom-namernikom i veruju da on predskazuje dolazak nekog odsutnog prijatelja. (prim. Koleridža).



Uploaded byP. T.
Source of the quotationhttp://feherilles.blogspot.hu

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