THE COLLECTED POEMS OF HENRIK IBSEN Translated by John ...

220
I can’t know if life will be long or short,
but I’m sure of its butterfly-beauty.”
Then suddenly they stopped — a gulf divided
the edge they stood on from their westward course.
Far down beneath their feet a goshawk glided,
and here the guide with care got off his horse.
“Go slowly here” — he told the pair — “Use caution,
and if you’d fend off evils you might meet
descending through the pass, use this precaution, —
drop two crossed twigs before you at your feet.”
With that, he strode ahead. The youngsters followed
with hearts set pounding by a silent fear,
as now and then the misted depths, blown clear,
revealed themselves and then again were swallowed.
She clutched him like a child at dusk, in dread; —
she whispered: “Isn’t this, now, like descending
out of both life and light’s fond fountain-head,
to plumb the depths of death’s dark realm that’s pending?”
And then a cloud dispersed, one that had brooded
upon the mountain’s bosom, swathed in storm, —
and far past the abyss-land, shade-secluded,
appeared a world that was alluring, warm.
It was a sight beyond a painter’s cunning; —
there stretched the mighty and the boundless sea
beyond the furthest valleys, brightly sunning
as, past the grave, there gleams eternity.
On the expanse of waters sun-gold shimmers,
and white sails sever gleaming from the strand,
as, on the world’s glad brow, a longing glimmers
on passage to Infinitude’s far land.
And, framing this stupendous presentation,
the black walls of the gorge, the clouded height,
while in the foreground stretched the desolation
contrasting darkly with the distant light.
And then a wind blew up on the horizon
and whipped the waste of waters with a gale.
Mist curtained off all one had there set eyes on
and drew, on all that spacious world, a veil.
And steeper, straiter still the path descended;
and wilder leapt the stream against its brim;
and blacker now the crag stood and presented
a barrier, while the upland sun grew dim.
Like ruins of a shattered world unravelled,
rocks huge as any church aligned their road,
and on the rubbled floor no grass-blade showed,