Arany
János:
A walesi bárdok
The Bards of Wales
by János Arany
Edward király,
angol király Léptet fakó lován: Hadd látom, úgymond, mennyit ér A velszi tartomány. |
Edward
the king, the
English king, |
Van-e ott
folyó és földje jó? Legelőin fű kövér? Használt-e a megöntözés: A pártos honfivér? |
"Are stream and mountain
fair to see? Are meadow grasses good? Do corn-lands bear a crop more rare Since wash'd with rebel's blood?" |
S a
nép, az istenadta nép, Ha oly boldog-e rajt' Mint akarom, s mint a barom, Melyet igába hajt? |
"And are the wretched
people there, Whose insolence I broke, As happy as the oxen are Beneath the driver's yoke?" |
Felség!
valóban koronád Legszebb gyémántja Velsz: Földet, folyót, legelni jót, Hegy-völgyet benne lelsz. |
"In truth this Wales, Sire,
is a gem, The fairest in thy crown: The stream and field rich harvest yield, And fair are dale and down." |
S
a
nép, az istenadta nép |
"And all the wretched
people there Are calm as man could crave; Their hovels stand throughout the land As silent as the grave." |
Edward
király, angol király |
Edward the king, the
English king, Bestrides his tawny steed; A silence deep his subjects keep And Wales is mute indeed. |
Montgomery a
vár neve, Hol aznap este szállt; Montgomery, a vár ura, Vendégli a királyt. |
The castle named Montgomery Ends that day's journeying; The castle's lord, Montgomery, Must entertain the king. |
Vadat
és halat, s mi jó falat |
Then game and fish and
ev'ry dish That lures the taste and sight A hundred hurrying servants bear To please the appetite. |
S mind,
amiket e szép sziget Ételt-italt terem; S mind, ami bor pezsegve forr Túl messzi tengeren. |
With all of worth the isle
brings forth In dainty drink and food, And all the wines of foreign vines Beyond the distant flood. |
Ti
urak, ti
urak! hát senkisem |
"Ye lords, ye lords, will
none consent His glass with mine to ring? What! Each one fails, ye dogs of Wales, to toast the English king?" |
Vadat
és halat, s mi az ég alatt Szem-szájnak kellemes, Azt látok én: de ördög itt Belül minden nemes. |
"Though game and fish and
ev'ry dish That lures the taste and sight Your hand supplies, your mood defies My person with a sight. |
Ti urak, ti
urak, hitvány ebek! Ne éljen Eduárd? Hol van, ki zengje tetteim - Elő egy velszi bárd! |
"Ye rascal lords, ye dogs
of Wales, Will none for Edward cheer? To serve my needs and chant my deeds Then let a bard appear!" |
Egymásra
néz a sok vitéz, A vendég velsz urak; Orcáikon, mint félelem, Sápadt el a harag. |
The nobles gaze in fierce
amaze, Their cheeks grow deadly pale; Not fear but rage their looks engage, They blench but do not quail. |
Szó
bennszakad, hang fennakad, Lehellet megszegik. - Ajtó megől fehér galamb, Ősz bárd emelkedik. |
All voices cease in
soundless peace, All breathe in silent pain; Then at the door a harper hoar Comes in with grave disdain: |
Itt
van,
király, ki tetteidet |
"Lo, here I stand, at thy
command, To chant thy deeds, O king!" And weapons clash and hauberks crash Responsive to his string. |
"Fegyver
csörög, haló hörög, |
"Harsh weapons clash and
hauberks crash, And sunset sees us bleed, The crow and wolf our dead engulf This, Edward, is thy deed! |
Levágva
népünk ezrei, Halomba, mint kereszt, Hogy sirva tallóz aki él: Király, te tetted ezt!" |
"A thousand lie beneath the
sky, They rot beneath the sun, And we who live shall not forgive This deed thy hand hath done!" |
Máglyára!
el! igen kemény - Parancsol Eduárd - Ha! lágyabb ének kell nekünk; S belép egy ifju bárd. |
"Now let him perish! I
must have" (The monarch's voice is hard) "Your softest songs, and not your wrongs!" In steps a boyish bard: |
"Ah!
lágyan kél az esti szél Milford-öböl felé; Szüzek siralma, özvegyek Panasza nyög belé. |
"The breeze is soft at eve,
that oft From Milford Haven moans; It whispers maidens' stifled cries, It breathes of widows' groans." |
Ne
szülj rabot, te szűz! anya Ne szoptass csecsemőt!..." S int a király. S elérte még A máglyára menőt. |
"Ye maidens bear no captive
babes! Ye mothers rear them not!" The fierce king nods. The lad is seiz'd And hurried from the spot. |
De vakmerőn s
hivatlanúl Előáll harmadik; Kobzán a dal magára vall, Ez ige hallatik: |
Unbidden then, among the
men, There comes a dauntless third. With speech of fire he tunes his lyre, And bitter is his word: |
"Elhullt
csatában a derék - No halld meg Eduárd: Neved ki diccsel ejtené, Nem él oly velszi bárd. |
"Our bravest died to slake
thy pride. Proud Edward hear my lays! No Welsh bards live who e'er will give Thy name a song of praise." |
Emléke
sír a lanton még - |
"Our harps with dead men's
memories weep Welsh bards to thee will sing One changeless verse our blackest curse To blast thy soul, O king!" |
Meglátom
én! - S parancsot ád Király rettenetest: Máglyára, ki ellenszegűl, Minden velsz énekest! |
"No more! Enough!" cries
out the king. In rage his orders break: "Seek through these vales all bards of Wales And burn them at the stake!" |
Szolgái
szét száguldanak, |
His man ride forth to south
and north, They ride to west and east. Thus ends in grim Montgomery The celebrated feast. |
S Edward
király, angol király Vágtat fakó lován; Körötte ég földszint az ég: A velszi tartomány. |
Edward the king, the
English king Spurs on his tawny steed; Across the skies red flames arise As if Wales burned indeed. |
Ötszáz,
bizony, dalolva ment |
In martyrship, with song on lip, Five hundred Welsh bards died; Not one was mov'd to say he lov'd The tyrant in his pride. |
Ha, ha! mi
zúg?... mi éji dal London utcáin ez? Felköttetem a lord-majort, Ha bosszant bármi nesz! |
" 'Ods blood! What songs
this night resound Upon our London streets? The mayor should feel my irate heel If aught that sound repeats!" |
Áll
néma csend; légy szárnya bent, Se künn, nem hallatik: "Fejére szól, ki szót emel! Király nem alhatik." |
Each voice is hush'd;
through silent lanes To silent homes they creep. "Now dies the hound that makes a sound; The sick king cannot sleep." |
Ha, ha! elő
síp, dob, zene! Harsogjon harsona: Fülembe zúgja átkait A velszi lakoma... |
"Ha! Bring me fife and drum
and horn, And let the trumpet blare! In ceaseless hum their curses come… I see their dead eyes glare…" |
De
túl zenén, túl síp-dobon, Riadó kürtön át: Ötszáz énekli hangosan A vértanúk dalát. |
But high above all drum and
fife And all trumpets' shrill debate, Five hundred martyr'd voices chant Their hymn of deathless hate. |
published
in:
The Magyar Muse
An Anthology of Hungarian Poetry 1400-1932
Edited and translated by Watson Kirkconnell, M.A.
Kanadai Magyar Újság Press, 1933