The Silver Locust
Boleslaw Prus
Here there's no remedy-
what am I saying!
The same dream, the same flash
the silver locusts;

the string quivers; it is strong
and will not tear out;
I strum on that string
each returning June;

look, it has burst out with fragrance
to keep the bees busy!
Silver wind, silver dust
silver locusts.

Don't tell me that somewhere
there's a better planet:
a locust is a song
when it silvers out.

It flows to your lips
and returns to me
in praise of the lesser gods
the silver locust.

Oh, what a murmur exudes
from that sacred fragrance!
I offer my heart before them
as if they were icons.

An idea is churning in my head,
a clouded star:
whether to undress you today
and clad you with their blossoms

for you are a sister to them,
plaintive queen,
herbal fragrance, silver smoke,
locust of silver.

-translated by Walter Whipple