poetry · Issue No. 3, March 1954 · p. 15

Remembrance

Emily Brontë — translated by Hibah al-Wadi

ذِكْرَى · اميلي برونتي - ترجمة هبة الوادي

How cold you are in the depths of the earth, the heavy snow stretched above you,
Far, far away removed, frozen in the dreary grave —
Have I then forgotten, my only love, to love you,
And grown cruel at last with the cruelty of the wave of time?!

And now, when I am alone, my thoughts will not go winging
Across the mountains, or over the northern shore,
But their wings come to rest where the leaves are covering
Your noble heart, for ever and evermore..

Cold you are in the earth, and fifteen Decembers have followed one another
Over those brown hills, to bring forth spring —
How faithful is the soul that does not cease remembering
After those years of change and pain..

Forgive me, sweet love of my youth, if I forget you,
While the world's tide and ebb bear me along with them..
Other desires, and other hopes, enfold my being —
Dark dreams they are, but they will do you no harm.

No other light illumines my sky,
And no second morning will ever dawn for me;
Every joy of my life was a gift from your life,
And every rapture of my days lies now with you in the grave..

Translated by: Hibah al-Wadi

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