త్యాగం… సెబా స్మిత్… అమెరికను

కొండవాలంతా చలిగాలులు వీస్తున్నాయి
త్రోవకనరాని ఆ ఆరుబయలు బావురుమంటోంది,
సమయం ఎంతయిందో తెలియరాని ఆ చీకటి రాత్రి
పాపం, ఒక తల్లి తన బిడ్డతో దారితప్పి తిరుగుతోంది.
తేలిపోతున్న మంచుని కాగలించిందా అన్నట్టుగా
ఆమె గుండెను పొదువుకుని బిడ్డ నిద్రిస్తోంది.

గాలి ఇంకా చల్లగానే విసిరికొడుతోంది.
నడి రాత్రి అప్పుడే గడిచిపోయింది
తేలివస్తున్న మంచు బాగా ముసురుకుంటోంది:
ఆమె అవయవాలు చచ్చుబడి, శక్తిసన్నగిలింది.
“భగవంతుడా!” అంటూ ఆమె గట్టిగా మొరపెట్టుకుంది,
“నేను చనిపోవలసి వస్తే, నా బిడ్డను కాపాడు తండ్రీ!” అంటూ.

తనుగుండెచుట్టూ కప్పుకున్న దుప్పటి తీసింది,
మంచుతుఫానుకి తన గుండెని ఎరచేసింది,
తనబిడ్డ చుట్టూ రక్షణగా కప్పింది,
బిడ్డ వెచ్చగా ఉందన్న ఆలోచనకే సంతసించింది.
చల్లబడ్డ పెదాలతో ఓ ముద్దుపెట్టుకుని, అశ్రువొకటి జార్చి,
ఆ మంచు పానుపుపై నిలువునా కూలబడిపోయింది.

వేకువనే ఒక బాటసారి అటు వెళ్ళాడు
మంచులోకప్పబడిఉన్న ఆమెని కనుగొన్నాడు
ఆమెకళ్ళలో మృత్యువు గడ్డకట్టింది,
బుగ్గలు కళతప్పి, చల్లబడి బిరుసెక్కాయి.
అతను బిడ్డచుట్టూ ఉన్న దుప్పటి తొలగించాడు
బిడ్డ తలపైకెత్తి తియ్యని ఒక నవ్వు నవ్వింది.
.
సెబా స్మిత్

అమెరికను

.

The Mother’s Sacrifice

THE COLD winds swept the mountain’s height,

And pathless was the dreary wild,

And mid the cheerless hours of night

A mother wandered with her child:

As through the drifting snow she pressed,

The babe was sleeping on her breast.

And colder still the winds did blow,

And darker hours of night came on,

And deeper grew the drifting snow:

Her limbs were chilled, her strength was gone.

“O God!” she cried in accents wild,

“If I must perish, save my child!”

She stripped her mantle from her breast,

And bared her bosom to the storm,

And round the child she wrapped the vest,

And smiled to think her babe was warm.

With one cold kiss, one tear she shed,

And sunk upon her snowy bed.

At dawn a traveller passed by,

And saw her ’neath a snowy veil;

The frost of death was in her eye,

Her cheek was cold and hard and pale.

He moved the robe from off the child,—

The babe looked up and sweetly smiled!

.

Seba Smith

(September 14, 1792 – July 28, 1868)

American Humorist

The World’s Best Poetry.

Eds.Bliss Carman, et al.

Volume I. Of Home: of Friendship. 1904.

Poems of Home: I. About Children

http://www.bartleby.com/360/1/21.html

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అనువాదలహరి

త్యాగం… సెబా స్మిత్… అమెరికను

అమెరికను

.

The Mother’s Sacrifice

THE COLD winds swept the mountain’s height,

And pathless was the dreary wild,

And mid the cheerless hours of night

A mother wandered with her child:

As through the drifting snow she pressed,

The babe was sleeping on her breast.

And colder still the winds did blow,

And darker hours of night came on,

And deeper grew the drifting snow:

Her limbs were chilled, her strength was gone.

“O God!” she cried in accents wild,

“If I must perish, save my child!”

She stripped her mantle from her breast,

And bared her bosom to the storm,

And round the child she wrapped the vest,

And smiled to think her babe was warm.

With one cold kiss, one tear she shed,

And sunk upon her snowy bed.

At dawn a traveller passed by,

And saw her ’neath a snowy veil;

The frost of death was in her eye,

Her cheek was cold and hard and pale.

He moved the robe from off the child,—

The babe looked up and sweetly smiled!

.

Seba Smith

(September 14, 1792 – July 28, 1868)

American Humorist

The World’s Best Poetry.

Eds.Bliss Carman, et al.

Volume I. Of Home: of Friendship. 1904.

Poems of Home: I. About Children

http://www.bartleby.com/360/1/21.html

Rate this:

వ్యాఖ్యానించండి

త్యాగం… సెబా స్మిత్… అమెరికను

అమెరికను

.

The Mother’s Sacrifice

THE COLD winds swept the mountain’s height,

And pathless was the dreary wild,

And mid the cheerless hours of night

A mother wandered with her child:

As through the drifting snow she pressed,

The babe was sleeping on her breast.

And colder still the winds did blow,

And darker hours of night came on,

And deeper grew the drifting snow:

Her limbs were chilled, her strength was gone.

“O God!” she cried in accents wild,

“If I must perish, save my child!”

She stripped her mantle from her breast,

And bared her bosom to the storm,

And round the child she wrapped the vest,

And smiled to think her babe was warm.

With one cold kiss, one tear she shed,

And sunk upon her snowy bed.

At dawn a traveller passed by,

And saw her ’neath a snowy veil;

The frost of death was in her eye,

Her cheek was cold and hard and pale.

He moved the robe from off the child,—

The babe looked up and sweetly smiled!

.

Seba Smith

(September 14, 1792 – July 28, 1868)

American Humorist

The World’s Best Poetry.

Eds.Bliss Carman, et al.

Volume I. Of Home: of Friendship. 1904.

Poems of Home: I. About Children

http://www.bartleby.com/360/1/21.html

Rate this:

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