RANENÁ BREZA

A beautiful poem of my childhood. Cannot be forgotten . Krásna báseň môjho detstva.
RANENÁ BREZA
Mária Rázusová Martáková
Mesiačik veľký, zlatistý
bozkával brezu na listy:
Brezička, breza, riekni mi,
prečo tak plačeš noci, dni ?
Pozrela breza do neba,
otriasla slzy zo seba,
pritisla lístky ku perám:
"Mesiačik, druh môj ... umieram!"
„Čo?"
skríkol mesiac na skaly.
„
Čo??"
skaly trikrát zvolali.
„
Či sa ti dobre nedarí?
Veď si najkrajšia v chotári!"
Zastenal pníček spanilý:
Deti mi srdce zranili,
sekerou ťali do dreva,
krv sa mi zo žíl vylieva
Mesiačik zašiel
nastal deň,
plakali listy
plakal peň.
Keď svitla teplá nedeľa,
ranená breza umrela.
Wounded Birch
Mária Rázusová Martáková
Large moon, golden
kissed birch on leaves:
Birch, birch, tell me,
why do you cry so nights, days?
She looked at the birch in the sky,
she shook her tears,
pressed the leaves to her lips:
"Moon, my kind ... I'm dying!"
"What?"
the moon cried out on the rocks.
"
What??"
the rocks called out three times.
"
Aren't you doing well?
You are the most beautiful in the area! "
He moaned:
The children hurt my heart,
he cut the wood with an ax,
blood is pouring out of my veins
The moon is gone
the day has come
cried leaves
cried stump.
When the warm Sunday was bright,
the wounded birch died.