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Mournful Rhapsody In Memoriam of Bem
Shadow, why do you depart, your broken hands upon your breastplate
Near the torches which with sparks surround your knees
The sword, green with laurel, and spattered with the candle-tears of your people
The eagle darts forward and your horse lifts his hoof like a dancer
Pennants are waving, fluttering against each other
Like the tents of an army encampment in the sky
Trumpets tremble in their weeping and banners
Bow from above with lowered wings
Like dragons, lizards, and birds pierced with spears
As the many ideas which with spears you have reached
Mourning women go, some lifting up their arms
The sweet smelling hay out of their hands the wind tears
Some, into conches gather the tears escaping from their faces
Some, search for the road, even though it was made centuries ago
Others, hurl upon the earth large clay dishes
Whose clutter in breaking brings still greater despair
Boys hit against hatchets, azure from the sky
Upon shields, rust-coloured from the light, pound servile minions
A giant banner, which in the smoke waves
With its tip against the arches of heaven leans
They enter a trench and sink…surface in the light of the moon
And they darken against the sky; a cold glow grazes them
And on their blades a star, as if unable to fall, is reflected
The chant suddenly quiets and once again splashes out like a wave
Onward-Onward-until the grave must be entered
And lurking beyond the road, we shall behold a black chasm
Past which humanity will never find a way
Your steed with a lance we shall pierce, as with an old spur
And we shall drag on the funeral procession, saddening sleeping cities
Banging upon gates with urns, whistling into the notches of hatchets
Until the walls of Jericho fall like logs
Fainting hearts shall be revived; nations will remove the mold from their eyes
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