Избранная лирика

      I

                   Before I see another day,

                   Oh let my body die away!
                   In sleep I heard the northern gleams;
                   The stars, they were among my dreams;
                   In rustling conflict through the skies,
                   I heard, I saw the flashes drive,
                   And yet they are upon my eyes,
                   And yet I am alive;
                   Before I see another day,
                   Oh let my body die away!

      II

                   My fire is dead: it knew no pain;

                   Yet is it dead, and I remain:
                   All stiff with ice the ashes lie;
                   And they are dead, and I will die.
                   When I was well, I wished to live,
                   For clothes, for warmth, for food, and fire;
                   But they to me no joy can give,
                   No pleasure now, and no desire.
                   Then here contented will I lie!
                   Alone, I cannot fear to die.

      III

                   Alas! ye might have dragged me on

                   Another day, a single one!
                   Too soon I yielded to despair;
                   Why did ye listen to my prayer?
                   When ye were gone my limbs were stronger;
                   And oh, how grievously I rue,
                   That, afterwards, a little longer,
                   My friends, I did not follow you!
                   For strong and without pain I lay,
                   Dear friends, when ye were gone away.

      IV

                   My Child! they gave thee to another,

                   A woman who was not thy mother.
                   When from my arms my Babe they took,
                   On me how strangely did he look!
                   Through his whole body something ran,
                   A most strange working did I see;
                   — As if he strove to be a man,
                   That he might pull the sledge for me:
                   And then he stretched his arms, how wild!
                   Oh mercy! like a helpless child.

      V

                   My little joy! my little pride!

                   In two days more I must have died.
                   Then do not weep and grieve for me;
                   I feel I must have died with thee.
                   O wind, that o'er my head art flying
                   The way my friends their course did bend,
                   I should not feel the pain of dying,
                   Could I with thee a message send;
                   Too soon, my friends, ye went away;
                   For I had many things to say.

      VI

                   I'll follow you across the snow;

                   Ye travel heavily and slow;
                   In spite of all my weary pain
                   I'll look upon your tents again.
                   — My fire is dead, and snowy white
                   The water which beside it stood:
                   The wolf has come to me to-night,
                   And he has stolen away my food.
                   For ever left alone am I;
                   Then wherefore should I fear to die?

      VII

                   Young as I am, my course is run,

                   I shall not see another sun;
                   I cannot lift my limbs to know
                   If they have any life or no.
                   My poor forsaken Child, if I
                   For once could have thee close to me.
                   With happy heart I then would die,
                   And my last thought would happy be;
                   But thou, dear Babe, art far away,
                   Nor shall I see another day.

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