Czech-English translation by Štěpán Krejčí

The poem’s lines are spoken by the legendary Czech prophet “Libuše” and include motifs from Czech mythology.

ENGLISH The Prophetess (Fragments)

translated by Štěpán Krejčí

When the tears start flowing to your eyes, when you’re hit by times severe, the one who then carries the hope is I, my prophesying voice sounds near.

Be wary of taking my words lightly, a forecasting spirit descends on you; all the world’s governed by laws not altered lightly, everything finally pays its due.

The river in the ocean is searching for its reason, heavenward climbs the burning flame, what earth has born she buries the next season: nought goes to waste nor stays the same.

Firm and unfaltering is fortune’s every step, that which should happen, happen will: what sinks away with one day’s swathing ebb, returns in another’s flowing spill.

I saw a man where water meets the meadow, Noble dukes’ father in his toil, roaming the hamlet in his old plough’s shadow, reaping the fruit of our land’s soil.

Now messengers came from council’s chamber, Addressing the ploughman as their prince, they dressed him in robes of gold and splendour, The field unfurrowed ever since.

CZECH Položil rádlo a propustil voly: „Odkud jste vyšli, jděte zpět!" a své bodadlo zarazil tu v poli, aby pučilo v list i květ.

Pojala voly nedaleká hora - podnes ji značí vody rmut; a suchá holi lískovice kora vydala trojí bujný prut.

A pruty vzkvětly a ovoce nesly: leč dospěl jenom jich jeden; druhé dva zvadly a ze stromu klesly, nevzkřísivše se po ten den.

Slyšte a vězte - nejsouť marné hlasy, vložte je pilně na paměť: nastane doba, přijdou zase časy, kdež obživne i mrtvá sněť.

Obě ty větve v ušlechtilém květu vzmohou se šíře, široce a nenadále ku podivu světu přinesou blahé ovoce.

Tu přijde kníže ve zlatě a nachu, aby zaplatil starý dluh, a vyndá na svět ze smetí a prachu Přemyslův zavržený pluh.

A z duté hory ven povolá voly i zase k pluhu přiděje a zanedbanou doorá tu roli a zlatým zrnem zaseje.

I vzejde setí, jaře bude kvésti, bujně se zaskví zlatý klas: a s ním i vzejde země této štěstí a stará sláva vstane zas.

He dropped the plough and set the oxen free: “From whence you came now depart!” and into the earth he thrust his chiseled beam so that a blossom may spring from its heart.

The oxen were captured by a nearby mountain — until this day marked by water’s tears; the abandoned tool like nature’s grandest fountain spurted three twigs like three lush spears.

And the twigs bloomed and bore fruitful crown: Yet only one reached adulthood’s reign; The others wilted and from the tree fell down, Never to spring again.

Hear and believe - fruitless are not these voices, place them carefully in your trust: a time is coming, new age’s prognosis, that restores even the deadest rust.

Both of those branches in the noblest of blooms will rise again as broad as can be and at once to the world’s wondering swoon Excellent fruit they will bring to thee.

Then a prince will arrive dressed in lilac and gold, to repay the debt of past, from dust of the earth he’ll raise a thing old Přemysl’s plough which aside had been cast.

And from the hollow mountain he’ll recall the ox to harness the beast in plough again the neglected field, he’ll rid of the rocks and plant it with his golden grain.

The seeds will grow in the warm sun of spring, the golden crop will amply shine: and happiness to this land it lastly will bring, rise will the glory of fathers thine.

Evvie Kyrozi, Reverie