Omnia vanitas, a photo by Eva Psarrou on Flickr.
VANITAS VANITATUM OMNIA VANITAS
by: Anne Bronte (1820-1849)
In all we do, and hear, and see,
Is restless Toil and Vanity.
While yet the rolling earth abides,
Men come and go like ocean tides;
And ere one generation dies,
Another in its place shall rise;
That, sinking soon into the grave,
Others succeed, like wave on wave;
And as they rise, they pass away.
The sun arises every day,
And hastening onward to the West,
He nightly sinks, but not to rest:
Returning to the eastern skies,
Again to light us, he must rise.
And still the restless wind comes forth,
Now blowing keenly from the North;
Now from the South, the East, the West,
For ever changing, ne'er at rest.
The fountains, gushing from the hills,
Supply the ever-running rills;
The thirsty rivers drink their store,
And bear it rolling to the shore,
But still the ocean craves for more.
'Tis endless labour everywhere!
Sound cannot satisfy the ear,
Light cannot fill the craving eye,
Nor riches half our wants supply,
Pleasure but doubles future pain,
And joy brings sorrow in her train;
Laughter is mad, and reckless mirth--
What does she in this weary earth?
Should Wealth, or Fame, our Life employ,
Death comes, our labour to destroy;
To snatch the untasted cup away,
For which we toiled so many a day.
What, then, remains for wretched man?
To use life's comforts while he can,
Enjoy the blessings Heaven bestows,
Assist his friends, forgive his foes;
Trust God, and keep His statutes still,
Upright and firm, through good and ill;
Thankful for all that God has given,
Fixing his firmest hopes on Heaven;
Knowing that earthly joys decay,
But hoping through the darkest day.
by: Anne Bronte (1820-1849)
In all we do, and hear, and see,
Is restless Toil and Vanity.
While yet the rolling earth abides,
Men come and go like ocean tides;
And ere one generation dies,
Another in its place shall rise;
That, sinking soon into the grave,
Others succeed, like wave on wave;
And as they rise, they pass away.
The sun arises every day,
And hastening onward to the West,
He nightly sinks, but not to rest:
Returning to the eastern skies,
Again to light us, he must rise.
And still the restless wind comes forth,
Now blowing keenly from the North;
Now from the South, the East, the West,
For ever changing, ne'er at rest.
The fountains, gushing from the hills,
Supply the ever-running rills;
The thirsty rivers drink their store,
And bear it rolling to the shore,
But still the ocean craves for more.
'Tis endless labour everywhere!
Sound cannot satisfy the ear,
Light cannot fill the craving eye,
Nor riches half our wants supply,
Pleasure but doubles future pain,
And joy brings sorrow in her train;
Laughter is mad, and reckless mirth--
What does she in this weary earth?
Should Wealth, or Fame, our Life employ,
Death comes, our labour to destroy;
To snatch the untasted cup away,
For which we toiled so many a day.
What, then, remains for wretched man?
To use life's comforts while he can,
Enjoy the blessings Heaven bestows,
Assist his friends, forgive his foes;
Trust God, and keep His statutes still,
Upright and firm, through good and ill;
Thankful for all that God has given,
Fixing his firmest hopes on Heaven;
Knowing that earthly joys decay,
But hoping through the darkest day.
***
Γεννημένη το Γενάρη του 1820 η Anne Bronte ήταν το νεώτερο μέλος της οικογένειας Bronte. Τα περισσότερα ποιήματά της τα έγραψε σε συνεργασία με τις δυο – επίσης λογοτέχνιδες – αδελφές της, Emily (Ανεμοδαρμένα Ύψη) και Charlote (Τζέιν Έϋρ). Πέθανε μόλις 29 χρονών από φυματίωση. Στο σύντομο της ζωής της έγραψε ποιήματα και νουβέλες με έκδηλη την επίδραση του ρεαλισμού, σε αντίθεση με τον άκρατο ρομαντισμό των αδελφών της. Αυτό, σε συνδυασμό με τους προβληματισμούς της πάνω σε ζητήματα θρησκείας, αλλά και την εκλεπτυσμένη ειρωνική της ματιά, στάθηκαν σημεία διαμάχης με τις δύο αδελφές της. Το έργο της θα είχε ίσως καλύτερη τύχη αν δεν εμποδιζόταν η επανέκδοσή τους από την αδελφή της Charlote. Αυτός είναι και ο λόγος που δεν κατόρθωσε να αποκτήσει την υστεροφημία των δύο διάσημων αδελφών της.
***
6 σχόλια:
καλο μηνα, καλη βδομαδα Ευα!! :)
να 'σαι καλα!! :)
ωραίο ποίημα αλλά μελαγχολικό. ίσως να είχε διαγνωστεί η νόσος της πριν το γράψει...
Kαταπληκτικό..
@ iLias
Και σε σένα Ηλία, καλό ξημέρωμα!
@ ria
Το πιθανότερο. Κοσμοθεωρίες ολόκληρες ανατρέπονται στο άκουσμα του θανάτου..
@ Lyriel
Σε ευχαριστώ πολύ, καλώς όρισες :)
Δεν την ήξερα όπως πολλοί ίσως.
Καλά κάνεις και την αναδεικνύεις.
Όπως κι αν είναι φαίνεται καθαρά η λογοτεχνική της "φλέβα".
Πολύ ωραία δουλειά κάνεις εδώ..
Καλό βράδυ
@ Ρεγγίνα
Παρόλο που πέθανε σε μικρή ηλικία και έχοντας ζήσει στη σκιά των δυο διάσημων αδελφών της, νομίζω ότι είχε κατορθώσει να βρει την δική 'φωνή'. Κρίμα που αποσιωπήθηκε..
Σ' ευχαριστώ πολύ Ρεγγίνα, καλή σου μέρα.
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