The Soul Of A Century/A dream of Praha
A DREAM OF PRAHA
What is this, a city I envision?
You say Praha? The nation’s crowning glory?
It is Praha, but what change transformed her.
Years ago a famous castle towered
Yonder, formerly the seat of royal grandeur.
Other bridges spanned the ancient river,
While today, all dwellings are deserted,
Where the noisy throngs once rolled and thundered
All is steeped in horror stricken silence.
In this city neither man nor creature,
Everything is desolate and barren.
Doors ajar to every silent dwelling,
And the rooms stand open and unguarded,
With the household implements still standing,
Left by men who seem to have just vanished,
For there is no trace of man nor movement.
Ancient towers still point to the heavens,
And the altar cloths are still spread out,
As if services were just concluded.
Lifeless, deathlike stands the ancient city,
Like a wasted grave now Praha stands,
Like the grave of a nation’s former splendor,
A nation’s grave bedecked with blooming flowers.
Speeding Labe and Vltava’s waters,
Blend their voices like a distant bugle,
As they chant the nation’s dirge of sorrow.
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