Bohemia Lies by the Sea
If houses here are
green, I'll step inside a house.
If bridges here are
sound, I'll walk on solid ground.
If love's labour's
lost in every age, I'll gladly lose it here.
If it's not me, it's
one who is as good as me.
If a word here borders
on me, I'll let it border.
If Bohemia still lies
by the sea, I'll believe in the sea again.
And believing in the
sea, thus I can hope for land.
If it's me, then it's
anyone, for he's as worthy as me.
I want nothing more
for myself. I want to go under.
Under – that means the
sea, there I'll find Bohemia again.
From my grave, I wake
in peace.
From deep down I know
now, and I'm not lost.
Come here, all you
Bohemians, seafarers, dock whores, and ships
unanchored. Don't you
want to be Bohemians, all you Illyrians,
Veronese and
Venetians. Play the comedies that make us laugh
until we cry. And err
a hundred times,
as I erred and never
withstood the trials,
though I did withstand
them time after time.
As Bohemia withstood
them and one fine day
was released to the
sea and now lies by water.
I still border on a
word and on another land,
I border, like little
else, on everything more and more,
a Bohemian, a
wandering minstrel, who has nothing, who
is held by nothing,
gifted only at seeing, by a doubtful sea,
the land of my choice.
Translation by Peter Filkins
Comments