Jan KochanowskiLamentsLament XVIItłum. Dorothea Prall

    1
    God hath laid his hand on me:
    He hath taken all my glee,
    And my spirit's emptied cup
    Soon must give its life-blood up.
    5
    If the sun doth wake and rise,
    If it sink in gilded skies,
    All alike my heart doth ache,
    Comfort it can never take.
    From my eyelids there do flow
    10
    Tears, and I must weep e'en so
    Ever, ever. Lord of Light,
    Who can hide him from thy sight!
    Though we shun the stormy sea,
    Though from war's affray we flee,
    15
    Yet misfortune shows her face
    Howsoe'er concealed our place.
    Mine a life so far from fame
    Few there were could know my name;
    Evil hap and jealousy
    20
    Had no way of harming me.
    But the Lord, who doth disdain
    Flimsy safeguards raised by man,
    Struck a blow more swift and sure
    In that I was more secure.
    25
    Poor philosophy, so late
    Of its power wont to prate,
    Showeth its incompetence
    Now that joy proceedeth hence.
    Sometimes still it strives to prove
    30
    Heavy care it can remove;
    But its little weight doth fail
    To raise sorrow in the scale.
    Idle is the foolish claim
    Harm can have another name:
    35
    He who laughs when he is sad,
    I should say was only mad.
    Him who tries to prove our tears
    Trifles, I will lend mine ears;
    But my sorrow he thereby
    40
    Doth not check, but magnify.
    Choice I have none, I must needs
    Weep if all my spirit bleeds.
    Calling it a graceless part
    Only stabs anew my heart.
    45
    All such medicine, dear Lord,
    Is another, sharper sword.
    Who my healing would insure
    Will seek out a gentler cure.
    Let my tears prolong their flow.
    50
    Wisdom, I most truly know,
    Hath no power to console:
    Only God can make me whole.