Читать книгу The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 06 - Коллектив авторов, Ю. Д. Земенков, Koostaja: Ajakiri New Scientist - Страница 13

  Thalatta! Thalatta!

  Hail to thee, thou eternal sea!

  Hail to thee, ten thousand times, hail!

  With rejoicing heart

  I bid thee welcome,

  As once, long ago, did welcome thee

  Ten thousand Greek hearts—

  Hardship-battling, homesick-yearning,

  World-renowned Greek hearts.

  The billows surged,

  They foamed and murmured,

  The sun poured down, as in haste,

  Flickering ripples of rosy light;

  Long strings of frightened sea-gulls

  Flutter away shrill screaming;

  War-horses trample, and shields clash loudly,

  And far resounds the triumphant cry:

  Thalatta! Thalatta!

  Hail to thee, thou eternal sea!

  Like accents of home thy waters are whispering,

  And dreams of childhood lustrous I see

  Through thy limpid and crystalline wave,

  Calling to mind the dear old memories

  Of dear and delightful toys,

  Of all the glittering Christmas presents,

  Of all the red-branched forests of coral,

  The pearls, the goldfish and bright-colored shells,

  Which thou dost hide mysteriously

  Deep down in thy clear house of crystal.

  Oh, how have I languished in dreary exile!

  Like unto a withered flower

  In the botanist's capsule of tin,

  My heart lay dead in my breast.

  Methought I was prisoned a long sad winter,

  A sick man kept in a darkened chamber;

  And now I suddenly leave it,

  And outside meets me the dazzling Spring,

  Tenderly verdant and sun-awakened;

  And rustling trees shed snowy petals,

  And tender young flowers gaze on me

  With their bright fragrant eyes,

  And the air is full of laughter and gladness,

  And rich with the breath of blossoms,

  And in the blue sky the birds are singing—

  Thalatta! Thalatta!

  Oh, my brave Anabasis-heart!

  How often, ah! how sadly often

  Wast thou pressed hard by the North's fair Barbarians!

  From large and conquering eyes

  They shot forth burning arrows;

  With crooked words as sharp as a rapier

  They threatened to pierce my bosom;

  With cuneiform angular missives they battered

  My poor stunned brains;

  In vain I held out my shield for protection,

  The arrows hissed and the blows rained down,

  And hard pressed I was pushed to the sea

  By the North's fair Barbarians—

  And, breathing freely, I greet the sea,

  The sea my deliverer, the sea my friend—

  Thalatta! Thalatta!