Adam Mickiewicz – ROMANTICISM

Methinks, I see…
– In my mind’s eyes.


Listen, my girl!
– She’s not listening –
It’s a town! It’s a day bright!
There is not single soul by your side.
What are you gripping?
Who calling, with whom greeting?
– She’s not listening –

Firstly like lifeless stone
Won’t turn the sight on you,
Then running eyes around,
Then bursting into tears,
As if catching something, clutching;
She’s crying, then laughing.

‘Was it you by night? It’s you, Johnny!
Ah! Loves even after death!
Here, there, go step by step,
Stepmother may hear by chance!

Oh, let her hear, there’s no more you!
They’ve buried you in a grave!
You’re already dead? Ah, I’m so scared!
Why do I fear of my Johnny?
Ah, it’s him! Your cheeks, sweet eyes!
Your white cloth on the body!

And you in the flesh, so white,
Cold, your hands so ice-cold are!
Let lay them down, here on my lap,
Hold me, just mouth to mouth!

Ah, it must be freezing in a grave!
It’s been two years since you died!
Take me, I’ll die with you, Johnny,
I don’t like the world and that life.

It’s badly in bad people crowd,
I cry, they sneer at me;
I speak, but no one catch;
I see, they do not see!

Come to me by day… Or by night, dreamy…
Don’t go… I hold you in my hand.
Where do you vanish, where, my Johnny!
It’s too soon, too early, wait!

My God! The cock is crowing,
The dawn in window flashing.
Where have you melt away?
Ah, stay, my Johnny, stay!
I’m all in misery.’

That’s how the girl caresses her lover,
Running by him, yelling and falling;
Hearing the fall and sound of pain,
A group of people is gathering.

‘Say prayers!’, the villagers shout,
‘There must be the ghost of him.
Johnny must be by his Caroline,
He loved her when he was alive!’

And I hear that, I have faith,
Cry and my prayers say.
‘Listen, my girl!’, amongst the tumult
shouts the greybeard to the crowd:
‘Confide in my eye and glass,
Cause there is nothing around.

Ghosts are invention of silly ruck,
Foolishness is what they believe in.
The young girl is talking nonsense,
And stupid folk curse reason.’

‘The girl is feeling’, I’m saying in modest,
‘And people profoundly believe;
Feeling and faith tells stronger to me
Than sage’s glass and eye, indeed.

Dead are your verities, unknown for plain people,
You see world in atoms, in every star’s spark.
Don’t know living truth – won’t see a miracle,
Have heart and look into heart!’