March of the Youth (Continued) pg. 67

May it reach the peaks and flit off again into the heights

Ardor, the dream[1]

Until it beats out a hymn to the sun

May [our] hearts start beating, may the blood boil in them

And new and beautiful may our song flow

Song of a Slave

A slave stands at the edge of the rocks

And looks into the blue depths

With his soul he drinks in the music of the waves

[His] hand[2] accompanies on the lute

                Like a bird free of bonds in the narrows

                Thought of gloomy flies[3] into the distance

                And from the[4] chest[5] the voice of a powerful song

                Along with the roar flows off into the distance

                                He put his whole soul into the song

                                A million tears and pains

                                And the sea played that song further

                                Until the king heard it

                And says[6] to him: O slave!

                Why do you raise up a song

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[1] Crossed out in original

[2] Literally “palm”

[3] This line has an extra syllable and the adjective translated as “gloomy” does not have a following noun, perhaps indicating an error in copying.

[4] his

[5] Or “bosom”

[6] (should be past tense)