Słowacki, Juliusz My Testament Zawadzki, Jarek Choromańska, Paulina Fundacja Nowoczesna Polska Romantyzm Liryka Wiersz Publikacja zrealizowana w ramach projektu Wolne Lektury (http://wolnelektury.pl). Materiał źródłowy pobrany ze strony http://archive.org/details/PolishPoetryInEnglish. http://wolnelektury.pl/katalog/lektura/slowacki-my-testament http://archive.org/details/PolishPoetryInEnglish Polish Poetry in English, tłum. Jarek Zawadzki [online], [dostęp: 04.03.2013]. Dostępny WWW: http://archive.org/details/PolishPoetryInEnglish. Creative Commons Uznanie Autorstwa - Na Tych Samych Warunkach 3.0.PL http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ xml text text 2013-03-05 enghttp://redakcja.wolnelektury.pl/media/dynamic/cover/image/2024.jpg Untitled, cleò@Flickr, CC BY 2.0 http://redakcja.wolnelektury.pl/cover/image/2024 DCA 1DTP 3MN 6RA Juliusz Słowacki My Testament I lived with you, I grieved, and many a tear I shed./ In truth, I never did a noble soul defy./ Now it is time for me to go and join the dead./ Seems like it's joy I leave on earth --- so sad am I. To my inheritance on earth I leave no heir,/ Nor to this lute of mine nor even to my name;/ My name has but dashed through, much like a lightening glare,/ For aye it shall remain an empty sound and tame. But you that knew me well, in your reports convey/ That all my younger years were for my country spent:/ While battle raged, at mast I stood, be as it may,/ And with the ship I drowned when vanquished down she went. But he --- that may reflect upon the detriment/ Of my poor fatherland --- will say, if well-intended,/ That my mind’s mantle was no drab for beggars meant,/ But with the splendor of my ancient fathers splendid. Oh that my friends at night together gathered be,/ And this sad heart of mine in leaves of aloe burn!/ And give it then to her who's given it to me./ Thus mothers are repaid: with ashes in the urn. Oh that my friends around a goblet sit once more,/ And drink unto my funeral and their poor lot./ Be I a ghost, I will appear and join them or ---/ If God may spare me pain and torture --- I shall not. But I beseech you --- there is hope while there is breath./ Do lead the nation with a wisdom's torch held high,/ And one by one, if needed be, go straight to death,/ As God-hurled stones that densely over ramparts fly. And as for me, I leave behind a group of friends,/ Who for my haughty heart much love did have and room./ I did God’s hardest service, now the duty ends,/ And I agree to have an unlamented tomb. Who else would like to try, without the world's applause,/ Unto the world displaying but indiffërence,/ To be a helmsman in a boat of ghosts --- as I was ---/ And then as lightly as a ghost to vanish hence? But after me remains, howe'er, the fateful force/ That, of no use in life, adorned my forehead tall;/ But it will press you when I die, without remorse,/ So that, bread-eaters, you become sheer angels all.