Vitéz Mihály CsokonaiHungarian poet |
To mortal eyes, you, Hope, do seem
a form divinely sweet;
but eyes of gods can pierce the dream
and see your blind deceit.
Unhappy men in times of ill
create you for their easing;
and as their Guardian Angel still
they worship without ceasing.
Why do you flatter me with praise?
Why do you then deride me?
Why in my bosom do you raise
a dubious heart to chide me?
Stay far and fair beyond my reach,
as first my soul you greeted!
I had depended on your speech,
but you have ever cheated.
Mighty love`s consuming fire
Has most deeply scorched my soul,
Cooling balm for hot desire,
Gracious tulip, make me whole.
It`s too late... With all hope extinguished
in Death`s ice-hut shall we two be brought
to hug in final sum.
O, bitter is the life of him, who
has lost all reason to be hoping
and yet is forced to live!
Although he may live, his soul withdrew;
behold my lungs lifelessly breathing
life`s breath they cannot give.