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A Wreath of Sonnets

Frail growth these blossoms had,
so sad and few:
As when on some warm February day
An early rose unfolds her petals gay,
Enjoying for a space the sun anew,

But bends her stricken head as soon as due
Storm-driven mists come, and with icy spray
The hoar-frost falls from skies
grown cold and grey,
While hill and dale are decked in snowy hue.

Thus did your beauty's sun upon me smile -
A radiance I would search for and pursue
To warm the petals of my love awhile.

But false that sunshine proved.
Then they must rue
Their error in a frost naught could beguile,
As over them malignant storm clouds flew.


France Preseren (1800 - 1849)
Slovenian poet of the Romantic movement




 


Fresh flowers will spread fragrance far and near,
Like roses when the winter's passed away,
And spring displays its marvellous array,
While through the trees white scattered blossoms peer.

The bees hum in the air sun-drenched and clear,
The shepherd's up by golden break of day,
Loud trills the nightingale on many a spray -
All nature is aglow with joyful cheer.

I know I scarce deserve such bliss; my mind
Is full of dread that you may still disdain
These poems or be vexed by them again.

Let them at least some little favour find
With you; to ease by it his bitter pain,
A Slovene wreath your poet has entwined

France Preseren (1800 - 1849)
Slovenian poet of the Romantic movement