ODE TO PRAGUE

Oh Prague, oh Prague, that sound alone

is music to my ears and heart!

Your name into my soul has grown

and I adore you, whole and part!

Not for your history, fame lordly

that laurel-like adorns your head,

nor for faith’s bitter chalice Godly,

that you lifelong to swallow had,

Nor for your temples, tombs of kings,

nor those grey stones’ voiced echoes, still,

no, not your glory, bygone things,

your present days, their glint I feel.

I love those houses gloomy, sombre,

I love your streets and alleyways,

whether in pallid mist aslumber,

in blazing sun, or moonlight’s glaze.

I love your roofscape ocean, spired,

I love Petřín, in watchful dream,

whose sleeping child you are, admired.

I love Vltava’s doleful stream.

And too, the bustle as I wander

down Na Příkopech boulevard go,

when lit by evening gas-lamps’ wonder

of soft and golden-yellow glow.