уторак, 01. април 2014.

Prolog Kanterberijskih priča


WHAN that Aprille with his shoures soote
The droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,
And smale fowles maken melodye,
That slepen al the night with open ye,
(So priketh hem nature in hir corages:
Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,
And palmers for to seken straunge strondes,
To ferne halwes, couthe in sondry londes;
And specially, from every shires ende
Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,
The holy blisful martir for to seke,
That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke.











KAD miomirni pljuskovi Aprila
Kroz sušu Marta prodru sve do žila,
I svaki koren okupaju sokom
Da cvet se rađa životvornim tokom,
Kad Razvigor opojnim dahom gane
U vresištu i gaju nežne grane
Što tek su nikle, a put mladog Sunca
U znako Ovna stigne do vrhunca,
I kada pesma ptičica se toči,
Jer svunoć sniju ne sklapajući oči
(Jer priroda nadahnjuje im grudi)
Na hodočašća tada kreću ljudi,
I na hadžiluk, put obala stranih,
Do svetih mošti nadaleko znanih;
A naročito iz Engleske cele
U Kanterberi svi da pođu žele,
Do blagog mučenika zbog kog bolje
Bejaše njima kad imahu bolje.


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