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που ᾽ναι για πάντα Αγγλία. Εκεί θε να σκεπάζει
χώμα ακριβό μια χούφτα σκόνη πιο ακριβή.
Στη σκόνη αυτή έδωκε πνοή η Αγγλία μητέρα,
τ᾽ άνθη της ν᾽ αγαπά και δρόμους να χαρεί·
σάρκα εγγλέζικη ρουφά Εγγλέζο αέρα,
πάτρια νερά λουσμένη κι ήλιους, καθαρή.
Κι αυτή η καρδιά, σκέψου, καθάρια από κακία,
του αιώνιου νου παλμός, ακέραιη την έννοια
ανταποδίδει, της Αγγλίας δώρο αγνό.
Ήχους κι εικόνες, όνειρα μέρα γλυκεία,
το γέλιο, φίλων δίδαγμα, και την ευγένεια,
καρδιά εν ειρήνη, κάτω απ᾽ αγγλικό ουρανό.
RUPERT BROOKE, “THE SOLDIER”
(μτφρ. Α. Κ. Πετρίδης)
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is forever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam;
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
That is forever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam;
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.