А raven flies to another one, the raven cries cawing to it:
"Raven, where we are to dine? How could we find out about it?"
The second raven said cawing to the first one in reply:
"I know, we will have lunch; in the open field under the willow bush
a dead hero lays. By whom and why he was killed,
only his falcon knows it, also his black mare and his young mistress".
The falcon flew off into the woods, his mare was mounted by a foe,
his mistress are waiting for her not killed but alive dear.

How Happiness Comes Slowly

How happiness comes slowly,
how it flies away quickly from us!
That is blessed who does not strive after it,
but finds it in oneself! In my sad youth
I was happy one minute, but then, alas! -
I suffered the fierce bitterness
from both fate and people as well!
Even if for an hour we are pleased
with the deception of hope!
That is blessed whose heart
heeds the voice of hope even in trouble!
But already runs away the dream
that sometime flattered soul;
hope was unfaithful to heart,
in sequence of that a sigh flyes after it!
I want to be often deluded
and to forget the disloyal one... but no!
Now I see the light of obnoxious truth
and ought to give up the dream!
I've lost all in the world,
was wilted the bloom of my youth:
love that was dreamt about as happiness,
only love alone was left in me!

A Poet And The Crowd

A poet was absent-mindedly strumming on his inspired lyre. He sang - in the meantime around the cold and haughty people uninitiated listened to him inanely. And so the stupid rabble had a chat about him:"Why so loudly he sings? In vain striking our ears, what is he driving at? What is he plinking about? What subjects does he teach us? Why as a wayward sorcerer does he excite us to torments? His song is free like a wind, like a wind it is fruitless. What is the benefit to us of it?"

Shut up you, senseless people, day laborers, slaves of both needs and cares! For me your bold murmuring is obnoxious, you are the earthworms, but not the sons of heaven. If you'd like something it's only the profit - you even estimate the worth of the sculpture of Apollo Belvedere in its weight. You don't know the use of it. But after all, this marble is a deity! .. What of that? You appreciate still higher a kitchen pot, because in it you make your cooking.

But if you're heaven's darling, then would you, a divine messenger, be so good as to use your gift for our benefit: will you please improve the hearts of your fellow citizens. We are timid, we are cunning, shameless, wicked, ungrateful; our hearts are as cold as the ones of eunuchs, slanderers, toads, fools; a bundle of vices takes root in us. You could, for the sake of love to your neighbors, give us your daring lessons, whereas we would heed your advice.

Be off! What concern for you is it of a pacific poet? Stagnate safely in depravity, the voice of lyre won't revive you! Like coffins you are nasty for my soul. Up to now for your stupidity and malice you had whips, dungeons, axes; - for you even is enough of crazy slaves! In your cities, they sweep the litter on bustling streets - well, useful work! - However, whether the priests, forgetting both their ministry and their altar, and their sacrifice, take brooms from you? We are born not for worldly excitement, not for greed, not for battles, but for the sake of inspiration, for the sake of both the sweet sounds and the prays.