On Thin Ice
Spring summons the earth to a wedding
(But who will wed me?).
I hurry, on thin ice treading,
To the ceremony.
She's braiding her hair with violets
Of humble birth.
Will you remain barren much longer now,
I've got to go. My heart's aching
For sunny ground.
So over thin ice I hasten
The way of the drowned.
Don't say, if I die: 'Too rapidly
She used up her strength...'
I ran to catch up with happiness
For the World and myself...
Translated by Peter Tempest
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Comments about this poem (On Thin Ice by Salomeja Neris )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1644 - 1694)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
Henry David Thoreau
(12 July 1817 – 6 May 1862)
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