Svatopluk Čech
And now suddenly a sparkling mist begins to fill my eyes;
I feel how my throbbing temples burn with sudden fire; how rise
From my bosom to my trembling lips fantastic murmurings,
And how my soul soars to future realms on thought's prophetic wings.
There's a twinkling, glimmering, dawn, beyond that mass of clouds and spray,
Just as if through them were breaking forth the heavy birth of day.
The angry sea clothes itself in a ruddy, weirdly beauteous glow,
As if in the broad water's stead blood and only blood did flow.
The lengthy crests of monstrous waves, rain dashed into spray anew,
Raging waterspouts and bursting clouds,—all are a bloody hue;
And crash and din deafen the ear, as when in the battle's fray
Clash countless spears and lances of raving armies without array.
But anon the drumming of the storm grows still, the seething ceases,
The sun's golden shield, peeping from the rosy vapors, increases.
Victorious day tends the clouds and mists in flowing tatters,
Just as in flying fringe are tom the battle-worn banners.
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