This website is using cookies

We use cookies to ensure that we give you the best experience on our website. If you continue without changing your settings, we'll assume that you are happy to receive all cookies on this website. 

Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth: Snow-Flakes

Portre of Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth

Snow-Flakes (English)

Out of the bosom of the Air

Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,

Over the woodlands brown and bare,

Over the harvest-fields forsaken,

Silent, and soft, and slow

Descends the snow.


Even as our cloudy fancies take

Suddenly shape in some divine expression,

Even as the troubled heart doth make

In the white countenance confession

The troubled sky reveals

The grief it feels.


This is the poem of the air,

Slowly in silent syllables recorded;

This is the secret of despair,

Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,

Now whispered and revealed

To wood and field.

Uploaded byP. T.
Source of the quotation

Hópelyhek (Hungarian)

A szürke lég ölén pihent,

De most a földre rázza a felhő

És várva várja már idelent

A puszta mező s a barna erdő,

  Mert enyhe s lágy takaró

  Mely halkan hull, a hó.


Borus lelkünket isteni fény

Álmok rémképeitől megója,

S kinnak, mi dul a sziv fenekén,

A sápadt arc lesz árulója,

  Fel így fedi, lám, az ég,

  A kint, mely benne ég.


A légnek költeménye a hó,

A bánat mind, mit az sokáig

Eltitkolt, im' nyilvánvaló

Pelyhekbe tagolva, versre válik,

  Erdőre, mezőre lehull,

  S mindent kifecseg botorul.

Uploaded byP. T.
Source of the quotation

Related videos