William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
We are seven
A simple child, dear brother Jim,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?
I met a little cottage girl,
she was eight years old, she sad;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That cluster´d rounkd her head.
She had a rustic woodland air,
And she was wildly clad;
Her eyes were fair, and very fair,
-Her beauty made me glad.
´Sisters and brothers, little maid,
´How many may you be?´
´How many? seven in all´ she said,
and wondering looked at me.
´And where are they, I pray you tell?´
She answered, ´Seven are we,
´And two of us at Conway dwell,
´And two are gone to sea.
´Two of us in the church-yard lie,
´My sister and my brother,
´And in the church-yard cottage, I
´Dwell near them with my mother.´
´You say that two at Conway dwell
´And two are gone to sea,
´Yet you are seven; I pray you tell
˝Sweet Maid, how this may be?´
Then did the little Maid reply,
´Seven boys and girls are we;
´Two of us in the church-yard lie,
´Beneath the church-yard tree.´
´You run about, my little maid,
´Your limbs they are alive;
´If two are in the church-yard laid,
Then ye are only five.´
´Their graves are green, they may be seen,´
The little Maid replied,
´Twelve steps or more from my mother´s door,
´And they are side by side.
´My stockings there I ofteen knit,
´My kerchief there I hem;
´And there upon the ground I sit-
´I sit and sing to them.
´And often after sunset, Sir,
´When it is light and fair,
´I take my little porringer,
´And eat my supper there.
´That first that died the little Jane;
´In bed she moaning lay,
´Till God released her of her pain,
´And then she went away.
´So in the church-yard she was laid,
´And all the summer dry,
´Together round her grave we played,
´My brother John, and I.
´And when the ground was white with snow,
´And I could run and slide,
´My brother John was forced to go,
´And he lies by her side.´
´How many you are then,´ said I,
´If they two are in Heaven?´
The little Maiden did reply,
´O Master! we are seven.´
´But they are dead, those are dead!
´Their spirits are in Heaven!´
´Twas throwing words away; for still
The little Maid would have her will,
And said, ´Nay, we are seven!´
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?
I met a little cottage girl,
she was eight years old, she sad;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That cluster´d rounkd her head.
She had a rustic woodland air,
And she was wildly clad;
Her eyes were fair, and very fair,
-Her beauty made me glad.
´Sisters and brothers, little maid,
´How many may you be?´
´How many? seven in all´ she said,
and wondering looked at me.
´And where are they, I pray you tell?´
She answered, ´Seven are we,
´And two of us at Conway dwell,
´And two are gone to sea.
´Two of us in the church-yard lie,
´My sister and my brother,
´And in the church-yard cottage, I
´Dwell near them with my mother.´
´You say that two at Conway dwell
´And two are gone to sea,
´Yet you are seven; I pray you tell
˝Sweet Maid, how this may be?´
Then did the little Maid reply,
´Seven boys and girls are we;
´Two of us in the church-yard lie,
´Beneath the church-yard tree.´
´You run about, my little maid,
´Your limbs they are alive;
´If two are in the church-yard laid,
Then ye are only five.´
´Their graves are green, they may be seen,´
The little Maid replied,
´Twelve steps or more from my mother´s door,
´And they are side by side.
´My stockings there I ofteen knit,
´My kerchief there I hem;
´And there upon the ground I sit-
´I sit and sing to them.
´And often after sunset, Sir,
´When it is light and fair,
´I take my little porringer,
´And eat my supper there.
´That first that died the little Jane;
´In bed she moaning lay,
´Till God released her of her pain,
´And then she went away.
´So in the church-yard she was laid,
´And all the summer dry,
´Together round her grave we played,
´My brother John, and I.
´And when the ground was white with snow,
´And I could run and slide,
´My brother John was forced to go,
´And he lies by her side.´
´How many you are then,´ said I,
´If they two are in Heaven?´
The little Maiden did reply,
´O Master! we are seven.´
´But they are dead, those are dead!
´Their spirits are in Heaven!´
´Twas throwing words away; for still
The little Maid would have her will,
And said, ´Nay, we are seven!´
Heten vagyunk
- - - - Egy egyszerű gyermek
Ki még virágot szedhet minden ágról
Életet érez minden tagjában:
- Mit tudjon az még a halálról?
Egy falusi lánykát találtam,
Nyolc évesnak mondá magát.
Tömött haja három négy fonadékban
Vevé körül fejét és homlokát.
Tekintete, ruhája, mint virágé,
Mely erők rejtekébe nőtt.
Szeme oly szép volt, oly nagyon szép
Gyönyör volt néznem őt.
Hányan vagytok testvérek, gyermekem,
Együtt véve fiú és leány?
- „Hányan? Heten vagyunk!“ felelt
S bámulva tekintett rám.
„S hol vannak ők?“ Kérdem tovább.
- „Heten vagyunk, - felelt, -
Kettő a városban lakik benn,
Kettő tengerre kelt.
Kettő a temetőben fekszik,
Egy fiú s egy leány.
Mi ott lakunk közel hozzájok,
Én és édesanyám.“
„Kettő van a városban, mondod,
Kettő van a tengeren; -
S mégis heten vonátok együtt?
Hogyan lehet ez gyermekem?“
S a kis lány megint felelt:
- „Együtt heten vagyunk, igen;
Kettőnk a nagy fa alatt nyugszik
A temetőnek mélyiben.“
„De míg te élsz, vígan szaladgálsz,
Kis pillangók után...
Kettő a temetőben alszik:
Így hát öten vagytok csupán!“
- „Sírjaik zöldek, szólt a lány,
Ott egymás mellett nyugszanak;
Házunktól, melyben mi lakunk,
Tíz-húsz lépésre csak.
Ott szoktam kötögetni gyakran,
Vagy varrogatni etvelig.
Leülök a sír zöld füvébe,
Ott ülök s dalolok nekik.
Sokszor, ha már a nap lement,
Szelíd az est, s ahold jő fel:
Kis kosarammal kimegyek,
S vacsorámat ott költöm el.
Előbb a kis Johanka halt meg,
Nyögött ágyán keservesen,
Míg isten feloldozta végre,
És akkor meghalt csendesen.
Letették a zöld temetőbe,
Ott alszik sírja fenekén,
Sírja körül ott játszadoztunk
Egész nyáron, Jánoska s én.
De mikor a hó esett a földre,
És a tó befagyott:
Jánoska is nagyon beteg lett.
És aztán ő is elhagyott!“
„Hányan vagytok hát kis leánykám,
Ha kettő túl az életen?“
sírva felelt a kis leányka:
- „Heten vagyunk uram, heten!“
„De kettő halva, lelkök égben,
Testök sír mélyiben...“
- Mind hasztalan erőlködésem.
A lányka megmaradt hitében:
“Heten vagyunk uram, heten!“
Szász Károly fordítása
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