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 <dc:source xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xml:lang="pl">Jan Kochanowski, Laments, University of California Press, Berkeley 1920</dc:source>
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 </rdf:RDF><liryka_l><autor_utworu>Jan Kochanowski</autor_utworu>




<dzielo_nadrzedne>Laments</dzielo_nadrzedne>




<nazwa_utworu>Lament IX</nazwa_utworu>




<strofa>Thou shouldst be purchased, Wisdom, for much gold/
If all they say of thee is truly told:/
That thou canst root out from the mind the host/
Of longings and canst change a man almost/
Into an angel whom no grief can sap,/
Who is not prone to fear nor evil hap./
Thou seest all things human as they are ---/
Trifles. Thou bearest in thy breast a star/
Fixèd and tranquil, and dost contemplate/
Death unafraid, still calm, inviolate./
Of riches, one thing thou dost hold the measure:/
Proportion to man's needs --- not gold nor treasure;/
Thy searching eyes have power to behold/
The beggar housed beneath the roof of gold,/
Nor dost thou grudge the poor man fame as blest/
If he but hearken him to thy behest./
Oh, hapless, hapless man am I, who sought/
If I might gain thy thresholds by much thought,/
Cast down from thy last steps after so long,/
But one amid the countless, hopeless throng!</strofa>


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