Over the years
I’ve stored up in my heart
All dawns and forenoons,
Woods and mountains, plains and streams,
The tropics and exotic flowers from the Arctic,
Old barns with roofs that gape towards the skies
To let the early sunbeams in
And swallows out.
I well remember their twittering and darting
That made a shepherd open drowsy eyes.
Throughout my life
I carry with me
The warmth of ricks, the scent of hay,
All birch trees with their twigs caressing winds,
All boulders which by road or lake or river lay
And made a seat where roaming lovers
Leaned head to head, sat clasping hand in hand.
I treasure in my breast the hands of brides and mothers,
Of sisters, brothers, loyal friends,
Hands which embraced
Their loved ones’ necks and waists.
I’ve gathered glances which reflected
The early snowdrops – heralds of sweet spring,
The new-laid bricks and bricklayers’ smiles,
The toasts we drank, my friend and I,
The humble meals we used to share,
The equal burdens we would bear,
The joys and sorrows that we knew together.
And that is why I’m of good cheer,
I feel such warmth within my breast,
My heart is brimming with delight
That every day
I can invite
So many truly welcome guests.
Over the years I’ve stored up in my heart
The curses I’ve endured,
Blows on my back and to my head,
The cracks of whips upon my loins,
The whine of bullets through my chest.
In every chain I’ve bound my hands:
They slowly gnaw my wrists, I scarce can write.
I’ve planted in my wrinkled brain
All babies’ tears and mothers’ sighs,
A host of wars and scores of fires,
Regrets of lost dreams, devastated towns,
All scorned and never fondled necks,
All grieving and forsaken hearts,
All eyes that were by torture dimmed,
A sapless cherry tree, a wan with broken wings,
Late yearnings, premature fatigues,
All ailments rushing in with age –
Yes, all these in my wrinkled brain
I’ve planted – let them thrive and grow,
Splitting my skull,
Twisting my limbs with roots …
So that is why my heart is dark
And heavy,
It wears a frown,
It’s icy, chilly winter there,
So sad
That sometimes joy too weighs me down.
(Albinas Zukauskas)
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