The Bard of the Dimbovitza: Rovmanian Folk-songs Collected from the PeasantsJ. R. Osgood, McIlvaine & Company, 1892 - 130 páginas |
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Términos y frases comunes
answer art thou beneath birds CARMEN SYLVA child cold courser crystal water dagger dark grave Dead Wife's Kiss dead woman's kiss Death deep didst thou Dirge dost thou Doth dream drink earth art fallen ev'ry flowers forest GIPSY SONG girdle glad grass green ground art fallen Hast thou hath hear hear my song Heaven Heiduck hero husband knife lips little horse look luteplayer's house maiden maize moon morning mother mourn murmur naught necklace nests never night o'er pitcher pity plain river sadness saith shroud sing sister sleep smile soldier spake sorrow soul spindle Spinning Songs spring stain on thy stars sun dropped suns shine bright sweet tears tell thee thine thou art Thou snow-white apple-blossom thou wilt threshold thy blood thy heart veil village warm watch weary weary river weeping wife wilt thou wind woman wouldst young
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Página 23 - And when the wind in the treetops roared, The soldier asked from the deep, dark grave, " Did the banner flutter then ? " " Not so, my hero," the wind replied, " The fight is done, but the banner won, Thy comrades of old have borne it hence, Have borne it in trinmph hence." Then the soldier spake from the deep, dark grave :
Página 24 - Not so, my hero," the lovers say, "We are those that remember not; For the spring has come and the earth has smiled, And the dead must be forgot." Then the soldier spake from the deep, dark grave: "I am content.
Página 24 - Then he heareth the lovers laughing pass, And the soldier asks once more : " Are these not the voices of them that love, That love — and remember me ? "
Página 25 - ... over the river The plank that sways to her step. The willows bow down their heads, and bend as she passes . . . And morning cometh, and findeth me poor and trembling, Since she hath taken my all from me, even my songs. Yet is she not content, nor will cease from asking, Whether I love her still. / tell the forest the wonders I see in my dreams And the forest loves to hear the tale of my dreaming, More than the song of birds, More than the murmur of leaves.
Página 24 - Not so, my hero," the wind replied, "The fight is done, but the banner won, Thy comrades of old have borne it hence, Have borne it in triumph hence." Then the soldier spake from the deep dark grave: "I am content." Then he heareth the lovers laughing pass, And the soldier asks once more: "Are these not the voices of them that love, That love — and remember me?
Página 102 - The river went weeping, weeping, Ah, me, how it did weep ! But I would never heed it, The weeping of the river, Whilst thou were at my breast. The stars, poor stars, were weeping, But I would not hear their weeping, Whilst yet I heard thy voice.
Página 73 - And love the lovers, and the little birds, That when ye bloom anew, They never may remember I am dead, But always think they see the self-same flowers ; Even as the sun that ever thinks he sees The self-same birds and lovers upon earth, Because he is immortal, and for this Never remembers Death.
Página 73 - Yesterday's flowers am I, And I have drunk my last sweet draught of dew. Young maidens came and sang me to my death ; The moon looks down and sees me in my shroud, The shroud of my last dew. " Yesterday's flowers, that are yet in me Must needs make way for all to-morrow's flowers. The maidens, too, that sang me to my death Must even so make way for all the maids That are to come. And as my soul, so too their soul will be Laden with fragrance of the days gone by. The maidens that to-morrow come this...
Página 22 - Look not upon the sky at eventide, For that makes sorrowful the heart of man ; Look rather here into my heart, And joyful shalt thou always be.