We present this work in honor of the 185th anniversary of the poet’s death.

 

Lord of the winds! I feel thee nigh;
I know thy breath in the burning sky!
And I wait with a thrill in every vein,
For the coming of the hurricane!
And lo! On the wings of the heavy gales,
Through the boundless arch of heaven he sails;
Silent and slow and terribly strong,
The mighty shadow is borne along,
Like the dark eternity to come;
While the world below, dismayed and dumb,
Through the calm of the thick hot atmosphere
Looks up at its gloomy folds with fear.

They darken fast—, and the golden blaze
Of the sun is quenched in the lurid haze,
And he sends through the shade a funeral ray,
A glare that is neither night nor day,
A beam that touches, with hues of death,
The clouds above and the earth beneath.
To its covert glides the silent bird,
While the hurricane’s distant voice is heard
Uplifted among the mountains round,
And the forests hear and answer the sound.

He is come! he is come! do ye not behold
His ample robes on the wind unrolled?
Giant of air! We bid thee hail.
How his gray skirts toss in the whirling gale;
How his huge and writhing arms are bent
To clasp the zone of firmament,
And fold, at length, in their dark embrace
From mountain to mountain the visible space.

Darker—still darker! The whirlwinds bear
The dust of the plains to the middle air;
And hark to the crashing, long and loud,
Of the chariot of God in the thunder cloud!
You may trace its path by the flashes that start
From the rapid wheels where’er they dart.
And the fire-bolts leap to the world below,
And flood the skies with a lurid glow.

What roar is that? ’tis the rain that breaks
In torrents away from the airy lakes,
Heavily poured on the shuddering ground,
And shedding a nameless horror around.
Ah! Well known woods and mountains and skies,
With the very clouds! Ye are lost to my eyes.
I seek you vainly and see in your place
The shadowy tempest that sweeps through space,
A whirling ocean that fills the wall
Of the crystal heavens, and buries all.
And I, cut off from the world, remain
Alone with the terrible hurricane.

Translation by William Cullen Bryant

We present this work in honor of the poet’s 115th birthday.

 

Oh Liberty! I wait for thee
To break this chain and dungeon bar;
I hear thy spirit calling me
Deep in the frozen North, afar,
With voice like God’s, and visage like a star.

Long cradled by the mountain wind,
Thy mates the eagle and the storm,
Arise! and from thy brow unbind
The wreath that gives its starry form,
And smite the strength that would thy grace deform!

Yes, Liberty! thy dawning light,
Obscured by dungeon bars, shall cast
Its splendor on the breaking night,
And tyrants, flying pale and fast,
Shall tremble at thy gaze and stand aghast!

We present this work in honor of the poet’s 115th birthday.

 

Playing hide and seek
The seed is hidden.
(Deep in the earth
a blind star beats.)

How scared you must feel
inside the dark land!
(The children look for her and she
beats deep, hidden.)

But they call her the trills
the sun and spring;
shy she looks out and soon
add two green wings.

We present this work in honor of the 130th anniversary of the poet’s death.

 

More than a mother as a saint to me
You were in truth. You gave me birth and died,
But Oh! my mother when you left my side
God kissed an angel in eternity.
Today when in my dreams methinks I see
Your smiling face, I gaze on you with pride,
And sigh, sweet mother, as I oft have sighed,
While tears I shed when I remember thee.
And should we never, never meet again
How sad ‘twould by, but I shall always keep
Your image in my heart, and not complain;
For something tells me that you lie asleep
Because my suff’ring would have caused you pain—
Because my weeping would have made you weep.

Translation by Jorge Godoy