Another beautiful scenery this morning
It reminds me of Shangri-la
Or a Hungarian poem I like.
The End of September
The flowers still bloom in the valley gardens.
The tree is still green outside our window.
But in the distance can you see winter’s world?
Soon the snow will cover over the rooftops.
Yet in my young heart a ray of summer still burns,
And deep within me lives the unending spring.
But behold, my dark hair is already streaked with gray.
The winter frost already strikes my head.
Soon the flowers will die, life hurries on.
Come my wife, sit here on my lap.
You who now place your head against my heart,
Will you one day gaze tearfully at my corpse?
If I should die before you,
Will you kneel down at my grave?
Or will you one day bring a young lover with you,
For whom you have forsaken my name?
If you cast aside your widow’s veil,
On my grave post hang a dark flag.
I will rise up for you from my earthly grave
In the depths of winter’s night and take it down.
To wipe from my eyes the tears shed for you,
Who so easily forgot her devotee,
And to bind up the wounds in the heart of one,
Who still loves you for all eternity.
Sandor Petofi – September, 1847