The Death of Janosik


Light upon the mountain-pray, what may be doing?
Twelve robust and strapping youngsters rendezvousing,
Youngsters hale and handsome, fond of sport and laughter,
Never lived their like before and scarce will live hereafter!
Falcons of the Tatras, faithful to each other,
As if they were offspring of one common mother;
Offspring! Yea, and fondlings, washed in milk and bathed,
Delicately nursed, in golden garments swathed,
Braves of form and figure, straight as altar tapers,
Brightening the gloom of sylvan shades and vapors;
Shirts of verdant velvet, silvered rich and regal,
Hats profusely studded, feathered with an eagle;
Armed with axe and carbine, pistols too for action -
These are my enjoyment, pride, and satisfaction!
When they stop to bivouac 'round a camp fire gleaming,
Twelve surrounding counties watch its skyward beaming;
When they start to drill with boyish animation,
Twelve surrounding counties throb in exultation,
Ay! and when their axe gleams in the sun's attention,
Lords of distant Budin quail with apprehension!

* * *
Tatras, spacious Tatras - nooks for trysts and rambles,
Ranges, misty ranges - fields for wanton gambols -
And you Krivan castle frowning in the distance;
Who could dare to blight these youngsters' free existence?
And their gallant captain - what a lord in bearing!
With a plume of blue and a scarlet cape he's wearing;
When he's on the mountain, like a dawn at breaking.
When he's in the forest.. all the earth is quaking!
Danube and the Tatras hear the groans ascending;
I Take your tax.. you tyrants.. reckoning is pending;
Keep the pelf, you wolves, your pelts shall pay our labors,
When, surrounding you, will flash a dozen sabres:
"Stand!" ten voices thunder. "Stand you paltry traitor!
Hand to us your hoard, your soul to your Creator!" -
Blades and pistols ready dignify the bustle:-
"Give us back the plundered Slovak brawn and muscle!"

Translated by George Gallik.
Reprinted from Manning, An Anthology of Czechoslovak Poetry.