The day is ending,
The night is descending;
The marsh is frozen,
The river dead.
Through clouds like ashes
The red sun flashes
On village windows
That glimmer red.
The snow recommences;
The buried fences
Mark no longer
The road o'er the plain;
While through the meadows,
Like fearful shadows,
Slowly passes
A funeral train.
The bell is pealing,
And every feeling
Within me responds
To the dismal knell;
Shadows are trailing,
My heart is bewailing
And tolling within
Like a funeral bell.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(1807 - 1882)
Afternoon in February — Poslijepodne u veljaci
(1845)
© Copyright: graphic arts; animation & design by Carmen Ezgeta
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was a commanding figure in the cultural life of nineteenth-century America.
Born in Portland, Maine, in 1807, he became a national literary figure by the 1850s,
and a world- famous personality by the time of his death in 1882.
He was a traveler, a linguist, and a romantic who identified with the great traditions of European literature and thought.
At the same time, he was rooted in American life and history,
which charged his imagination with untried themes and made him ambitious for success.
prijevod: © 2007 Drazen Dragovic
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Dan koncu krece
Spusta se vece
Ledi se bara
I rijeka mre.
Oblak svjetluca
Sunce paluca
Na seoskom oknu
Zari se — gle!
Iznova snijezi
Ograda lezi
I uz puteljak
Ne stoji blijed.
Pasnjake snene
Strahotne sjene
Prolaze: ide
Pogrebni red.
A zvono tuce
Misli me muce
I cuvstva mojih
Turobni ton.
Sjene su duge
Srce od tuge
Udara, bije
Posljednji zvon.