Fraternity-Testvériség, 1958 (36. évfolyam, 1-11. szám)
1958-05-01 / 5. szám
FRATERNITY 3 To nature s wailing tempest tune your song, Hear liow it howls and curses, groans and sighs, While trees are torn and vessels cast away And man and beast are smitten from the shies. War kindles all the earth with its mad brand; God’s grave is shaken in the Holy Land. Strike up! Who knows how soon the day will come When fiddle-bow is bent and music dumb? Grief’s in your heart, but wine is in your glass: Play, gypsy, play, and let your trouble pass! What is that strangled sighing in the wind, That mourns across the storm with ghastly yell? What crashes frantic through the firmanent? What moans unceasing l\ke a mill in hell? A fallen angel, mad or broken-hearted? A shatter’d army from its path departed? Strike up! Who knows how soon the day will come When fiddle-bow is bent and music dumb? Grief’s in your heart, but wine is in your glass: Play, gypsy, play, and let your trouble pass! Do we, across some desert, hear again The cries of Adam, claiming God unjust? The thud of some far, fratricidal club? The voice of Abel calling from the dust? The screaming of the vulture’s endless flight? And chain’d Prometheus, groaning in the night? Strike up! Who knows how soon the day will come Wh en fiddle-bow is bent and music dumb? Grief’s in your heart, but wine is in your glass: Play, gypsy, play, and let your trouble pass! Let the blind stars and this despairing earth Pass through a bitter deluge once again: That sin and soil’d desire and dreams of wrath May suffer cleansing in that fiery rain. Until some Noah’s ark appear to save Seeds of a new earth from our watery grave. Strike up! Who knows how soon the day will come When fiddle-bow is bent and music dumb? Grief’s in your heart, but wine is in your glass: Play, gypsy, play, and let your trouble pass!
