After the Ball
J
Jónas Hallgrímsson
0
Altın Yaprak
If mother had known that a foreign land
holds thrills both pleasant and horrid!
--- He hurled the golden ball from his hand
and struck my glowing forehead.
And now I plunge through the woods, my mind
distracted, at sixes and sevens,
seeking my white, my delicate hind ---
stars are aglint in the heavens.
Ye gods! in that shadowy pool ahead ---
the Huntress! a sight to undo me!
Hark! --- a halloo! --- it's finished! --- I'm dead!
The hounds of the nymphs pursue me.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş