Wordsworth, William: Oda o nagoveštajima besmrtnosti kroz sećanja na rano detinjstvo (Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood in Serbian)
Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood (English)The child is father of the man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. (Wordsworth, "My Heart Leaps Up") I
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore;-- Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
II
The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose, The Moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare, Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair; The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath past away a glory from the earth.
III
Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, And while the young lambs bound As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief: A timely utterance gave that thought relief, And I again am strong: The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep; No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay; Land and sea Give themselves up to jollity, And with the heart of May Doth every Beast keep holiday;-- Thou Child of Joy, Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy Shepherd-boy!
IV
Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call Ye to each other make; I see The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee; My heart is at your festival, My head hath its coronal, The fulness of your bliss, I feel--I feel it all. Oh evil day! if I were sullen While Earth herself is adorning, This sweet May-morning, And the Children are culling On every side, In a thousand valleys far and wide, Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm, And the Babe leaps up on his Mother's arm:-- I hear, I hear, with joy I hear! --But there's a Tree, of many, one, A single Field which I have looked upon, Both of them speak of something that is gone: The Pansy at my feet Doth the same tale repeat: Whither is fled the visionary gleam? Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
V
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar: Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing Boy, But He beholds the light, and whence it flows, He sees it in his joy; The Youth, who daily farther from the east Must travel, still is Nature's Priest, And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended; At length the Man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.
VI
Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own; Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a Mother's mind, And no unworthy aim, The homely Nurse doth all she can To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man, Forget the glories he hath known, And that imperial palace whence he came.
VII
Behold the Child among his new-born blisses, A six years' Darling of a pigmy size! See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies, Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, With light upon him from his father's eyes! See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with newly-learned art; A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral; And this hath now his heart, And unto this he frames his song: Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, love, or strife; But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride The little Actor cons another part; Filling from time to time his "humorous stage" With all the Persons, down to palsied Age, That Life brings with her in her equipage; As if his whole vocation Were endless imitation.
VIII
Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie Thy Soul's immensity; Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind, That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep, Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,-- Mighty Prophet! Seer blest! On whom those truths do rest, Which we are toiling all our lives to find, In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave; Thou, over whom thy Immortality Broods like the Day, a Master o'er a Slave, A Presence which is not to be put by; Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height, Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke, Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife? Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight, And custom lie upon thee with a weight Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
IX
O joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That nature yet remembers What was so fugitive! The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction: not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest-- Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:-- Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings; Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not realised, High instincts before which our mortal Nature Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised: But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeing; Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, To perish never; Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, Nor Man nor Boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy! Hence in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be, Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the Children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
X
Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song! And let the young Lambs bound As to the tabor's sound! We in thought will join your throng, Ye that pipe and ye that play, Ye that through your hearts to-day Feel the gladness of the May! What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind.
XI
And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves, Forebode not any severing of our loves! Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; I only have relinquished one delight To live beneath your more habitual sway. I love the Brooks which down their channels fret, Even more than when I tripped lightly as they; The innocent brightness of a new-born Day Is lovely yet; The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
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Oda o nagoveštajima besmrtnosti kroz sećanja na rano detinjstvo (Serbian)Dete je otac čoveka: I mogao bih da zaželim da mi dane Jedan uz drugi spaja prirodan pijetet.
I
Beše jedno vreme kada livad, gaj i potok, Zemlja i svaki običan prizor Meni su izgledali Zaodenuti u nebesku svetlost, Sjaj i svežinu sna. Sad više nije kao nekad što je bilo; – Ma kud da se osvrnem, Po noći il΄ po danu, Stvari koje videh sad više videti ne mogu.
II
Duga dolazi i odlazi, I zanosna je ruža, Mesec s radošću Gleda oko sebe kad je nebo čisto. Vode u zvezdanoj noći Lepe su i svetle: Sunčeva svetlost sjajno je rođenje; Ali ipak znam, kud god pošao, Da je minuo jedan sjaj sa zemlje.
III
Sad, dok ptice pevaju radosnu pesmu, I dok mladi jaganjci skakuću Kao po dobovanju doboša, Samo meni dođe misao tuzi: Blagovremeno je izrekoh i u tome nađoh utehu, I ponovo sam jak: Vodopadi duvaju u svoje trube sa strmeni; Neće više moja misao kvariti godišnje doba; Čujem Odjeke kako se sustižu kroz planine, Vetrovi stižu do mene sa polja sna, I sva je zemlja radosna; Kopno i more Predaju se veselosti, I sa srcem Maja Svaka zver praznuje; – Ti, Dete Radosti, Kliči oko mene da čujem tvoje klicanje, ti srećni Mali čobanine!
IV
Vi srećna Stvorenja, čuo sam poziv Što ga jedno drugome upućujete; vidim Da se nebo smeje sa vama u vašem radovanju; Srce mi je na vašoj svetkovini, Glavu mi krasi venac, Potpunost vašeg blaženstva, ja osećam – osećam to sve. Oh, zlokoban dan! da sam ja turoban Dok se sama Zemlja kiti, Tog divnog majskog jutra, A deca beru Na sve strane, U hiljadu dolina dalekih i prostranih Sveže cveće; dok sunce toplo sija, I Čedo poskakuje u majčinom naručju: – Ja čujem, ja čujem, s radošću čujem! – Ali eno ga Drvo, od mnogih jedno Jedino Polje na koje sam pogledao, Oba govore o nečemu što je prošlo; Daninoć kraj kojeg gazim Ponavlja istu priču: Gde je utrnula iskra snoviđenja? Gde su sada sjaj i san?
V
Naše je rođenje samo san i zaborav: Duša koja se u nama rađa, zvezda našeg života, Negde je drugde imala boravište, I dolazi izdaleka; Ne iz potpunog zaborava, I ne sasvim nagi, Već zaogrnuti oblacima sjaja dolazimo Od Boga, koji je naš dom: Nebo leži oko nas u našem detinjstvu! Tmina tamnice počinje da se spušta Nad Dečaka koji raste, Ali On vidi svetlost, i izvor njen On vidi u svojoj radosti; Mladić, koji svakim danom sve dalje od istoka Mora da putuje, još uvek je Sveštenik Prirode, I blistavo snoviđenje Prati ga na putu; Naposletku Čovek primeti da ono zamire, I gubi se na svetlu svakidašnjice.
VI
Zemlja sebi puni krilo sopstvenim zadovoljstvima; Žudnjama koje su u prirodi njene vrste, I, čak i s izvesnim Materinskim osećanjem, A bez nedostojne namere, Priprosta Pomajka čini sve što može Da navede svoje Posvojče, svog Stanara Čoveka, Da zaboravi sjaj koji je poznavao, I onu carsku palatu iz koje je došao.
VII
Osmotri Dete među njegovim novorođenim blaženstvima; Šestogodišnjeg Miljenika malog kao Pigmej! Pogledaj gde sred dela sopstvenih ruku leži, Zagušen izlivima Majčinih poljubaca, Dok je na njemu svetlost iz očevih očiju! Pogledaj, uz njegova stopala, neki mali plan ili kartu, Neki odlomak iz njegovog sna o ljudskom životu Što ga je sam uobličio novonaučenom veštinom; Svadba ili svetkovina, Oplakivanje ili pogreb; I to mu je sada u srcu I tome on prilagođava svoju pesmu: A zatim će podesiti jezik Za razgovore o poslu, ljubavi ili borbi; Ali neće dugo potrajati Pre no što se to odbaci u stranu, I s novom radošću i ponosom Mali Glumac uči drugu ulogu; Popunjavajući s vremena na vreme svoju ”šaljivu pozornicu” Svim Licima, sve do Doba oduzetosti, Koje Život donosi sa sobom u svojim kočijama; Kao da je čitav njegov poziv Beskrajno podražavanje.
VIII
Ti, čiji spoljni izgled ne odaje sliku Ogromnosti tvoje Duše; Ti, najbolji Filosofe, koji još čuvaš Svoje nasleđe, Ti Oko među slapima, Koje, gluvo i nemo, proniče večnu dubinu, Gde doveka obilazi večni duh – Moćni proroče! Blagosloveni Mudrače! Na kome počivaju te istine Što se celog života mučimo da ih otkrijemo, U mraku izgubljeni, mraku groba; Ti, nad kojim tvoja besmrtnost Nadnosi se kao Dan, Gospodar nad Robom, Prisustvo koje se ne može izbeći; Ti, Dete malo, pa ipak blistavo u noći Nebom dane slobode na vrhuncu tvog bića, Zašto se tako ozbiljnom revnošću izazivaš Godine da donesu neizbežni jaram, Sa tako slepim uživanjem u borbi? Sasvim brzo tvoja Duša imaće svoj zemaljski tovar, A breme navike ležaće na tebi, teško kao mraz i duboko skoro kao život!
IX
O, radosti! da u našoj žeravici Ima nešto što živi, Da priroda ipak pamti Nešto što je bilo tako prolazno! Pomisao na prošle godine rađa u meni Stalan blagoslov: zaista ne Za ono što je najvrednije da se blagoslovi; Ushićenost i slobodu, prostu veru Detinjstva, svejedno da li pri radu ili na počinku, Sa novookrilaćenom nadom koja još leprša u njegovim grudima – Ne dižem ja za to Pesmu hvale i slave; Već za ona uporna zapitkivanja O smislu i svetu oko nas, Osipanja od nas, iščeznuća; Puste slutnje Stvorenja Koje se kreće po neshvaćenim svetovima, Uzvišene porive pred kojima je naša smrtna priroda Drhtala kao kakav zatečen Krivac: Već za one prve naklonosti, Ona maglovita sećanja, Koja, bila šta bila, Ipak su vrelo svetlosti sveg našeg dana, Ipak su osnovna svetlost sveg našeg viđenja; Održavaju nas, čuvaju, i imaju moć da učine Da naše bučne godine izgledaju kao trenuci u biću Večne Tišine: istine koje se bude Da nikad ne propadnu; Koje ni ravnodušnost, ni bezumno nastojanje Ni Čovek ni Dečak Ni sve što je u neprijateljstvu s radošću, Ne može sasvim da odagna ili uništi! Stoga, kad je vreme mirno, Ma i daleko od njega bili, Naše Duše vide to besmrtno more Što nas je donelo amo, Mogu u trenu da otputuju tamo, I ugledaju Decu kako se igraju na obali, I začuju moćne talase kako se večno valjaju.
X
Zato pevajte, vi Ptice, pevajte, pevajte radosnu pesmu! I neka mladi Jaganjci skakuću Kao po dobovanju doboša! Mi ćemo se u mislima pridružiti vašem društvu, Vama što svirate i vama što igate, Vama što kroz svoja srca danas Osećate milinu Maja! Šta i ako ozarenost koja je jednom bila tako sjajna Bude sada zauvek oteta mome pogledu, I ako ništa ne može da povrati čas Raskoši trave, slave cveta; Mi nećemo tugovati već ćemo naći Snagu u onome što je ostalo nama; U prvobitnom skladu Koji, pošto je bio, mora uvek biti; U umirujućim mislima koje izviru Iz ljudske patnje; U veri koja gleda kroz smrt, U godinama koje donosi filosofski um.
XI
I O, vi Kladenci, Livade, Bregovi i Lugovi, Ne pomišljajte ni na kakav raskid naših ljubavi! U dubini srca još ja osećam vašu moć; Samo sam se odrekao zadovoljstva Da život redovnije prepuštam vašoj vlasti. Volim Potoke što niz svoja korita vrludaju, Čak više nego kada sam ja poskakivao lako kao oni; Nevina vedrina novorođenog Dana Još je zanosna; Oblaci što se skupljaju oko sunca na zalasku Poprimaju potamnele boje od oka Koje je držalo stražu nad čovekovom smrtnošću; Još jedno odmeravanje beše, i druge su palmove grančice dobijene. Zahvaljujući ljudskom srcu koje nam omogućuje život, Zahvaljujući njegovoj nežnosti, njegovim radostima i strepnjama. Naskromniji cvetak što se rascvetava može me navesti na Misli koje često leže preduboko za suze.
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