Post poems of your native tongue

[Sagitta Hungarica]

I want this thread to celebrate European poetry. So post poems in your own language, they may belong to others or being your own composition.

[Geminus]

A very beautiful poem from Rainer Maria Rilke: "Der Panther"

Sein Blick ist vom Vorübergehn der Stäbe
so müd geworden, daß er nichts mehr hält.
Ihm ist, als ob es tausend Stäbe gäbe
und hinter tausend Stäben keine Welt.

Der weiche Gang geschmeidig starker Schritte,
der sich im allerkleinsten Kreise dreht,
ist wie ein Tanz von Kraft um eine Mitte,
in der betäubt ein großer Wille steht.

Nur manchmal schiebt der Vorhang der Pupille
sich lautlos auf –. Dann geht ein Bild hinein,
geht durch der Glieder angespannte Stille –
und hört im Herzen auf zu sein.

[Sagitta Hungarica]

Ady Endre: Vihar és fa (Storm and Tree)
(early 20th century)

Kóbor gyermekem hazajött:
Kicsi Békességem
S a fák és a záporos vihar
Nagy egyességét nézem,
Csókos csatáját bámulom.

Hogy kelleti magát a fa,
Hajlong erre-arra
S hogy bízza rá magát odadón
Mégiscsak a viharra,
Ki zordan leplez vágyakat.

Békesség, kicsi gyermekem,
Maradjunk mi eggyütt:
Bomoljon a fa meg a vihar,
Mi csöndben leselkedjünk,
Hátha betoppan valaki.

Hátha vihart hoz valaki
Viharnál is jobban,
Lombosnak érzem a lelkemet
S az Élet szíve dobban
Ott künn és a szivemben is.

S ha elfutsz, kóbor gyermekem,
Újból visszavárlak,
Addig viharral ölelkezem
S nem árt ez igazi fának
S aztán itt maradsz: gyermekem.

[HungAryan]

József Attila - Nem! Nem! Soha!

Szép kincses Kolozsvár, Mátyás büszkesége,
Nem lehet, nem, soha! Oláhország éke!
Nem teremhet Bánát a rácnak kenyeret!
Magyar szél fog fúni a Kárpátok felett!

Ha eljő az idő - a sírok nyílnak fel,
Ha eljő az idő - a magyar talpra kel,
Ha eljő az idő - erős lesz a karunk,
Várjatok, Testvérek, ott leszünk, nem adunk!

Majd nemes haraggal rohanunk előre,
Vérkeresztet festünk majd a határkőre
És mindent letiprunk! - Az lesz a viadal!! -
Szembeszállunk mi a poklok kapuival!

Bömbölve rohanunk majd, mint a tengerár,
Egy csepp vérig küzdünk s áll a magyar határ
Teljes egészében, mint nem is oly régen
És csillagunk ismét tündöklik az égen.

A lobogónk lobog, villámlik a kardunk,
Fut a gaz előlünk - hisz magyarok vagyunk!
Felhatol az égig haragos szózatunk:
Hazánkat akarjuk! vagy érte meghalunk.

Nem lész kisebb Hazánk, nem, egy arasszal sem,
Úgy fogsz tündökölni, mint régen, fényesen!
Magyar rónán, hegyen egy kiáltás zúg át:
Nem engedjük soha! soha Árpád honát!

[Sagitta Hungarica]

József Attila - Nem! Nem! Soha!

Szép kincses Kolozsvár, Mátyás büszkesége,
Nem lehet, nem, soha! Oláhország éke!
Nem teremhet Bánát a rácnak kenyeret!
Magyar szél fog fúni a Kárpátok felett!

Ha eljő az idő - a sírok nyílnak fel,
Ha eljő az idő - a magyar talpra kel,
Ha eljő az idő - erős lesz a karunk,
Várjatok, Testvérek, ott leszünk, nem adunk!

Majd nemes haraggal rohanunk előre,
Vérkeresztet festünk majd a határkőre
És mindent letiprunk! - Az lesz a viadal!! -
Szembeszállunk mi a poklok kapuival!

Bömbölve rohanunk majd, mint a tengerár,
Egy csepp vérig küzdünk s áll a magyar határ
Teljes egészében, mint nem is oly régen
És csillagunk ismét tündöklik az égen.

A lobogónk lobog, villámlik a kardunk,
Fut a gaz előlünk - hisz magyarok vagyunk!
Felhatol az égig haragos szózatunk:
Hazánkat akarjuk! vagy érte meghalunk.

Nem lész kisebb Hazánk, nem, egy arasszal sem,
Úgy fogsz tündökölni, mint régen, fényesen!
Magyar rónán, hegyen egy kiáltás zúg át:
Nem engedjük soha! soha Árpád honát!

Written immediately after the unjust Trianon Dictate (in translation No! No! Never!). A poem that since then heats the never resting hearts of every Hungarian.

[HungAryan]

Written immediately after the unjust Trianon Dictate (in translation No! No! Never!). A poem that since then heats the never resting hearts of every Hungarian.

I know this poem from the heart.
Even when woken up from my best dreams, I could recite it.

[Sagitta Hungarica]

I know this poem from the heart.
Even when woken up from my best dreams, I could recite it.

Unfortunately I never had that good of a memory to memorize poems by heart. Of course I managed with shorter ones, but never with large ones. Though I love to read them, and meditate about their meaning, or simply to marvel in their beauty.

[Pallantides]

xwl2vLc8HoY


Du må ikke sove - Arnulf Øverland, 1937

Jeg våknet en natt av en underlig drøm,
det var som en stemme talte til mig,
fjern som en underjordisk strøm -
og jeg reiste mig op: Hvad er det du vil mig?


- Du må ikke sove! Du må ikke sove!
Du må ikke tro, at du bare har drømt!
Igår blev jeg dømt.
I natt har de reist skafottet i gården.
De henter mig klokken fem imorgen!


Hele kjelleren her er full,
og alle kaserner har kjeller ved kjeller.
Vi ligger og venter i stenkolde celler,
vi ligger og råtner i mørke hull!


Vi vet ikke selv, hvad vi ligger og venter,
og hvem der kan bli den neste, de henter.
Vi stønner, vi skriker - men kan dere høre?
Kan dere absolutt ingenting gjøre?


Ingen får se oss.
Ingen får vite, hvad der skal skje oss.
Ennu mer:
Ingen kan tro, hvad her daglig skjer!


Du mener, det kan ikke være sant,
så onde kan ikke mennesker være.
Der fins da vel skikkelig folk iblandt?
Bror, du har ennu meget å lære!


Man sa: Du skal gi ditt liv, om det kreves.
Og nu har vi gitt det - forgjeves, forgjeves!
Verden har glemt oss! Vi er bedratt!
Du må ikke sove mer i natt!


Du må ikke gå til ditt kjøpmannskap
og tenke på hvad der gir vinning og tap!
Du må ikke skylde på aker og fe
og at du har mer enn nok med det!


Du må ikke sitte trygt i ditt hjem
og si: Det er sørgelig, stakkars dem!
Du må ikke tåle så inderlig vel
den urett som ikke rammer dig selv!
Jeg roper med siste pust av min stemme:
Du har ikke lov til å gå der og glemme!


Tilgi dem ikke; de vet hvad de gjør!
De puster på hatets og ondskapens glør!
De liker å drepe, de frydes ved jammer,
de ønsker å se vår verden i flammer!
De ønsker å drukne oss alle i blod!
Tror du det ikke? Du vet det jo!


Du vet jo, at skolebarn er soldater,
som stimer med sang over torv og gater,
og opglødd av mødrenes fromme svig,
vil verge sitt land og vil gå i krig!


Du kjenner det nedrige folkebedrag
med heltemot og med tro og ære -
du vet, at en helt, det vil barnet være,
du vet, han vil vifte med sabel og flag!


Og så skal han ut i en skur av stål
og henge igjen i en piggtrådsvase
og råtne for Hitlers ariske rase!
Du vet, det er menneskets mening og mål!


Jeg skjønte det ikke. Nu er det for sent.
Min dom er rettferdig. Min straff er fortjent.
jeg trodde på fremgang, jeg trodde på fred,
på arbeid, på samhold, på kjærlighet!
Men den som ikke vil dø i en flokk
får prøve alene, på bøddelens blokk!


Jeg roper i mørket - å, kunde du høre!
Der er en eneste ting å gjøre:
Verg dig, mens du har frie hender!
Frels dine barn! Europa brenner!


Jeg skaket av frost. Jeg fikk på mig klær.
Ute var glitrende stjernevær.
Bare en ulmende stripe i øst
varslet det samme som drømmens røst:


Dagen bakenom jordens rand
steg med et skjær av blod og brand,
steg med en angst så åndeløs,
at det var som om selve stjernene frøs!


Jeg tenkte: Nu er det noget som hender. -
Vår tid er forbi - Europa brenner!



English translation by Lars-Toralf:

I was awakened one morning, by the quaintest of dreams
‘twas like a voice, spoken to me
It sounded afar - like an underground stream,
I rose and said: Why do you call me?

Dare not to slumber! Dare not to sleep!
Dare not believe, it was merely a dream!
Yore I was judged.
The gallows were built in the court this evening,
They’ll come for me — 5’ in the morning

This dungeon is teeming,
And barracks stand dungeon by dungeon
we lie here, awaiting, in cold cells of stone,
We lie here, we rot, in these murky holes.

We know not ourselves, what does lie ahead
Who will be the next one they'll reach for.
We moan and we shriek: But do you take heed?
Is there none among you who’ll hearken?

No one can see us,
None know what befalls us.
Yet more:
None will believe - what the day will bring us!

And then You defy: This dare not be true!
That men can be utterly evil.
There has to be some one with merits pure
Oh, brother, you still have a great deal to learn

They said: You will give your life, if commanded
We’ve given it now, for naught it was handed
The world has forgotten, we’ve all been deceived
Dare not to sleep in this hour - this eve.

You oughtn’t go to your business hence,
Or think: What’s your loss – or what is your gain?
You oughtn’t attribute your fields and your kine,
Nor say you’ve enough - with all that is thine.

You oughn’t abide, sitting calm in your home
Saying: Dismal it is, poor they are, and alone
You cannot permit it! You dare not, at all.
Accepting that outrage on all else may fall!
I cry with the final gasps of my breath:
You dare not repose, nor stand and forget

Pardon them not - they know what they do!
They breathe on hate-glows, and evil pursue,
They fancy to slay, they revel with cries,
Their desire is to gloat, when our world is at fire!
In blood they are yearning to drown one and all!
Don’t you believe it? You’ve heard the call!

You know how infants will soldiers remain,
While dashing through streets, fields, chanting ‘bout pain
Aroused by their mothers‘ assurance of glory
They’ll shelter their land - and they’ll never worry

You know the fatality of the lies,
that glory and faith and honor abides
You discern the dauntless dreams of a child,
A saber, a banner, he’ll flaunt them so wild,

And then they’ll leave home for a rainfall of steel,
‘Till last they hang ragged on barbed wire will,
Decaying for Hitler's Aryan call,
That is what a man’s for - after all…

I couldn’t imagine – too late now it is
My sentence is just: The verdict's no miss
I believed in prosperity, dreamt about peace
In labor and fellowship; love’s fragrant kiss
Yet those who don’t die on the battlefield,
Their heads for the axeman, will certainly yield

I cry in the gloom - if only you’d knew
There is but one thing - befitting to do
Defend yourself, while your hands are still yearning,
Protect your offspring - Europe is burning.

***

I shook from the chill. To dress, up I rose
Without stars were shining, so far, yet so close
‘twere simply a brilliant ray in the east,
Admonishing warning from the dream that just ceased

The day that soared up from earths furthermost strand
Augmenting with blood — and with firebrand
It grew with terror - like a breath that was lost
It seemed like the starlight - was slain by the frost.

I weighed: Something is imminent - and it’s dire
Our era is over — Europe’s on fire!

[Sagitta Hungarica]

Norwegian is very underrated language. Very passionate.

[Treffie]

Poems lose meaning when translated, but I think the following will need some sort of translation for there to be any meaning at all.

Rhyfel (War) - by Hedd Wyn (he died at Passchendaele)

Gwae fi fy myw mewn oes mor ddreng,
A Duw ar drai ar orwel pell;
O'i ol mae dyn, yn deyrn a gwreng,
Yn codi ei awdurdod hell.

Pan deimlodd fyned ymaith Dduw
Cyfododd gledd i ladd ei frawd;
Mae swn yr ymladd ar ein clyw,
A'i gysgod ar fythynnod tlawd.

Mae'r hen delynau genid gynt,
Ynghrog ar gangau'r helyg draw,
A gwaedd y bechgyn lond y gwynt,
A'u gwaed yn gymysg efo'r glaw



Why must I live in this grim age,
When, to a far horizon, God
Has ebbed away, and man, with rage,
Now wields the sceptre and the rod?

Man raised his sword, once God had gone,
To slay his brother, and the roar
Of battlefields now casts upon
Our homes the shadow of the war.

The harps to which we sang are hung,
On willow boughs, and their refrain
Drowned by the anguish of the young
Whose blood is mingled with the rain

[Sagitta Hungarica]

Poems lose meaning when translated, but I think the following will need some sort of translation for there to be any meaning at all.

Rhyfel (War) - by Hedd Wyn (he died at Passchendaele)

Gwae fi fy myw mewn oes mor ddreng,
A Duw ar drai ar orwel pell;
O'i ol mae dyn, yn deyrn a gwreng,
Yn codi ei awdurdod hell.

Pan deimlodd fyned ymaith Dduw
Cyfododd gledd i ladd ei frawd;
Mae swn yr ymladd ar ein clyw,
A'i gysgod ar fythynnod tlawd.

Mae'r hen delynau genid gynt,
Ynghrog ar gangau'r helyg draw,
A gwaedd y bechgyn lond y gwynt,
A'u gwaed yn gymysg efo'r glaw



Why must I live in this grim age,
When, to a far horizon, God
Has ebbed away, and man, with rage,
Now wields the sceptre and the rod?

Man raised his sword, once God had gone,
To slay his brother, and the roar
Of battlefields now casts upon
Our homes the shadow of the war.

The harps to which we sang are hung,
On willow boughs, and their refrain
Drowned by the anguish of the young
Whose blood is mingled with the rain

Esthetically it doesn't seem as beautiful to me, but I am sure if pronounced it sounds much better. Very interesting and unique language though. Is it Gaelic?

[Treffie]

Esthetically it doesn't seem as beautiful to me, but I am sure if pronounced it sounds much better. Very interesting and unique language though. Is it Gaelic?

It's Welsh :shakefist :D As Welsh poems go, the English translation is pretty good.

[Sagitta Hungarica]

It's Welsh :shakefist :D As Welsh poems go, the English translation is pretty good.

Which of the Celtic literature are the most vast and developed? I mean from which Celtic languages?

[Mordid]

Adam Asnyk, 1838–1897

Do Mlodych

Szukajcie prawdy jasnego plomienia!
Szukajcie nowych, nie odkrytych drog...
Za kazdym krokiem w tajniki stworzenia
Coraz sie dusza ludzka rozprzestrzenia,
I wiekszym staje sie Bog!

Choc otrząśniecie kwiaty barwnych mitow,
Choc rozproszycie legendowy mrok,
Choc mgle urojen zedrzecie z blekitow,
Ludziom niebianskich nie zbraknie zachwytow,
Lecz dalej siegnie ich wzrok!

Kazda epoka ma swe wlasne cele
I zapomina o wczorajszych snach...
Niescie wiec wiedzy pochodnie na czele
I nowy udzial bierzcie w wiekow dziele,
Przyszlosci podnoscie gmach!

Ale nie depczcie przeszlosci oltarzy,
Choc macie sami doskonalsze wzniesc;
Na nich sie jeszcze swiety ogien żarzy
I milosc ludzka stoi tam na strazy,
I wy winniscie im czesc!

Ze swiatem, ktory w ciemnosc już zachodzi
Wraz z calą tęcza idealnych snow,
Prawdziwa mądrosc niechaj was pogodzi –
I wasze gwiazdy, o zdobywcy młodzi,
W ciemnosciach pogasna znow!

In English....:

TO THE YOUNG

The brightening flame of truth pursue,
Seek to discover ways no human knows.
With every secret now revealed to you,
The soul of man expands within the new.
And God still bigger grows!

Although you may the flowers of myths remove,
Although you may the fabulous dark disperse,
And tear the mist of fancy from above;
There’ll be no shortage of new things to love,
Farther in the universe.

Each epoch has its special goals in store,
And soon forgets the dreams of older days.
So, bear the torch of learning in the fore,
And join the making of new eras’ lore.
The House of the Future raise!

But trample not the altars of the past!
Although you shall much finer domes erect.
The holy flames upon the stones still last,
And human love lives there and guards them fast,
And them you owe respect!

Now with the world that vanishes from view,
Dragging down the perfect rainbow of delight,
Be gently reconciled in wisdom true.
Your stars, oh, youthful conquerors, they, too,
Will fade into the night!

[Treffie]

Which of the Celtic literature are the most vast and developed? I mean from which Celtic languages?

I should imagine that Irish and Welsh are the languages with most literature written. Don't have much in-depth knowledge of how the Irish system works, but in Welsh there is the Eisteddfod (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eisteddfod) which encourages people to excel in literature from a very young age. Cadeirio'r Bardd (Chairing of the Bard) is the award given to the best piece of poetry written during the year. It's taken very seriously and presented by people in very funny clothes :D

http://www.gorsethkernow.org.uk/images/gallery/eistpics/frisword.jpg

[Alex Delarge]

[SONETO DO CARALHO POTENTE]

Porripotente heroe, que uma cadeira
Sustens na poncta do caralho teso,
Pondo-lhe em riba mais por contrapeso
A cappa de baetão da alcoviteira:

Teu casso é como o ramo da palmeira,
Que mais se eleva, quando tem mais peso;
Si o não conservas açaimado e preso,
É capaz de foder Lisboa inteira!

Que forças tens no horrido marsapo, [hórrido]
Que assentando a dysforme cachamorra
Deixa connos e cus feitos num trappo!

Quem ao ver-te o tesão há não discorra
Que tu não podes ser sinão Priapo,
Ou que tens um guindaste em vez de porra?

Bocage

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/f6/Manuel_Maria_Barbosa_du_Bocage.jpg/200px-Manuel_Maria_Barbosa_du_Bocage.jpg

[Logan]

I like Shakespeare, the English Romantics, and this fellow:


THE BLOSSOM.
by John Donne


LITTLE think'st thou, poor flower,
Whom I've watch'd six or seven days,
And seen thy birth, and seen what every hour
Gave to thy growth, thee to this height to raise,
And now dost laugh and triumph on this bough,
Little think'st thou,
That it will freeze anon, and that I shall
To-morrow find thee fallen, or not at all.

Little think'st thou, poor heart,
That labourest yet to nestle thee,
And think'st by hovering here to get a part
In a forbidden or forbidding tree,
And hopest her stiffness by long siege to bow,
Little think'st thou
That thou to-morrow, ere the sun doth wake,
Must with the sun and me a journey take.

But thou, which lovest to be
Subtle to plague thyself, wilt say,
Alas ! if you must go, what's that to me?
Here lies my business, and here I will stay
You go to friends, whose love and means present
Various content
To your eyes, ears, and taste, and every part ;
If then your body go, what need your heart?

Well then, stay here ; but know,
When thou hast stay'd and done thy most,
A naked thinking heart, that makes no show,
Is to a woman but a kind of ghost.
How shall she know my heart ; or having none,
Know thee for one?
Practice may make her know some other part ;
But take my word, she doth not know a heart.

Meet me in London, then,
Twenty days hence, and thou shalt see
Me fresher and more fat, by being with men,
Than if I had stay'd still with her and thee.
For God's sake, if you can, be you so too ;
I will give you
There to another friend, whom we shall find
As glad to have my body as my mind.

[Sagitta Hungarica]

[SONETO DO CARALHO POTENTE]

Porripotente heroe, que uma cadeira
Sustens na poncta do caralho teso,
Pondo-lhe em riba mais por contrapeso
A cappa de baetão da alcoviteira:

Teu casso é como o ramo da palmeira,
Que mais se eleva, quando tem mais peso;
Si o não conservas açaimado e preso,
É capaz de foder Lisboa inteira!

Que forças tens no horrido marsapo, [hórrido]
Que assentando a dysforme cachamorra
Deixa connos e cus feitos num trappo!

Quem ao ver-te o tesão há não discorra
Que tu não podes ser sinão Priapo,
Ou que tens um guindaste em vez de porra?

Bocage

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/f6/Manuel_Maria_Barbosa_du_Bocage.jpg/200px-Manuel_Maria_Barbosa_du_Bocage.jpg

I could swear I was reading a poem in Latin. I am curious if Portuguese changed much in form after Bocage, and the late 18th century?

[Alex Delarge]

I could swear I was reading a poem in Latin. I am curious if Portuguese changed much in form after Bocage, and the late 18th century?

I posted that poem as a joke, it's about some guy's huge dick. But that poet is from my city so... :D
He has other more normal and serious poems.

Our language changed somewhat compared to that. Some words are now written very differently and others don't exist at all. Still i understand 100% of it.

[Sagitta Hungarica]

I like Shakespeare, the English Romantics, and this fellow:

I also like this period of the English language, 16-17th centuries, when basically Modern English was shaped. It has an untouched charm to it, more politeness, and fancy display of expressions.

[Sagitta Hungarica]

Adam Asnyk, 1838–1897

Do Mlodych

Szukajcie prawdy jasnego plomienia!
Szukajcie nowych, nie odkrytych drog...
Za kazdym krokiem w tajniki stworzenia
Coraz sie dusza ludzka rozprzestrzenia,
I wiekszym staje sie Bog!

Choc otrząśniecie kwiaty barwnych mitow,
Choc rozproszycie legendowy mrok,
Choc mgle urojen zedrzecie z blekitow,
Ludziom niebianskich nie zbraknie zachwytow,
Lecz dalej siegnie ich wzrok!

Kazda epoka ma swe wlasne cele
I zapomina o wczorajszych snach...
Niescie wiec wiedzy pochodnie na czele
I nowy udzial bierzcie w wiekow dziele,
Przyszlosci podnoscie gmach!

Ale nie depczcie przeszlosci oltarzy,
Choc macie sami doskonalsze wzniesc;
Na nich sie jeszcze swiety ogien żarzy
I milosc ludzka stoi tam na strazy,
I wy winniscie im czesc!

Ze swiatem, ktory w ciemnosc już zachodzi
Wraz z calą tęcza idealnych snow,
Prawdziwa mądrosc niechaj was pogodzi –
I wasze gwiazdy, o zdobywcy młodzi,
W ciemnosciach pogasna znow!

In English....:

TO THE YOUNG

The brightening flame of truth pursue,
Seek to discover ways no human knows.
With every secret now revealed to you,
The soul of man expands within the new.
And God still bigger grows!

Although you may the flowers of myths remove,
Although you may the fabulous dark disperse,
And tear the mist of fancy from above;
There’ll be no shortage of new things to love,
Farther in the universe.

Each epoch has its special goals in store,
And soon forgets the dreams of older days.
So, bear the torch of learning in the fore,
And join the making of new eras’ lore.
The House of the Future raise!

But trample not the altars of the past!
Although you shall much finer domes erect.
The holy flames upon the stones still last,
And human love lives there and guards them fast,
And them you owe respect!

Now with the world that vanishes from view,
Dragging down the perfect rainbow of delight,
Be gently reconciled in wisdom true.
Your stars, oh, youthful conquerors, they, too,
Will fade into the night!

As in my commentary to the Welsh poem, this must definitely sound much better spoken, than in written form. Those who put down the laws of written Polish didn't cared much about the esthetics it seems to me.

[Waidewut]

Kā gulbji balti padebeši iet by Eduards Veidenbaums

Kā gulbji balti padebeši iet,
Tiem vēlētos es līdzi tālu skriet—
Tur tālumā, kur ziemas nepazīst,
Kur rozes mūžam zied un nenovīst.—
Kam velti laimību kāro tu, sirds?
Met projām reiz cerības tumšajā kapā:
No saulainām lejām ir mirstīgais šķirts,
Tam jādzīvo asaru dūksnājā slapjā,
Kur dzelži un cirvji bez rimšanās klaudz,
Pēc maizes, pēc pārtikas vergi kur sauc,
No stiprākā samīts kur vājākais lūzt,
Un asins un sviedri ik dienas kur plūst

[Sagitta Hungarica]

Kā gulbji balti padebeši iet by Eduards Veidenbaums

Kā gulbji balti padebeši iet,
Tiem vēlētos es līdzi tālu skriet—
Tur tālumā, kur ziemas nepazīst,
Kur rozes mūžam zied un nenovīst.—
Kam velti laimību kāro tu, sirds?
Met projām reiz cerības tumšajā kapā:
No saulainām lejām ir mirstīgais šķirts,
Tam jādzīvo asaru dūksnājā slapjā,
Kur dzelži un cirvji bez rimšanās klaudz,
Pēc maizes, pēc pārtikas vergi kur sauc,
No stiprākā samīts kur vājākais lūzt,
Un asins un sviedri ik dienas kur plūst

Interestingly I was reminded of Polish, Lithuanian, Estonian, Latin when reading this.