Fickle
by Jan Andrzej Morsztyn, translated by Jarek Zawadzki

Source, including CC-BY-SA license: [1]


Sooner will a man the winds ensnare, and sooner still
With tiny bits of sunny rays his pocket fill;
Sooner will he, with a threat, the stormy oceans calm,
Or grasp the world immense and keep it in his palm;
Sooner will he, hurting not himself, a bonfire slap,
Or all the clouds upon the sky with a net entrap;.
Sooner will in bitter tears the Mount of Etna drown,
And sooner will a deaf-mute sing, a downright clown
Utter something wise; and sooner will the wayward fate
Be fixed, and death and laugh be one another’s mate;
Sooner will a dream be true and poets cease to lie;
Of no avail will sooner be an angel’s cry;
Sooner will the sun at dusk into a cavern sail,
Or there’ll be people in the wild, or peace in jail;
Sooner will our minds be gone and words will cease to flow
Than constancy may any woman ever know.

Copyright.svg PD-icon.svg This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
Original:

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1927. It may be copyrighted outside the U.S. (see Help:Public domain).

Translation:

This work is released under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 license, which allows free use, distribution, and creation of derivatives, so long as the license is unchanged and clearly noted, and the original author is attributed.