Canto V

When dawn's first rays had caused the moon to flee,
The prairy-heath spread 'fore him like a sea.
From east to the horizon's far off end:
Before him lies the broad and level land.

No bush, no tree, no blooming flower there,
A dewy blade o' grass is even rare.
The sun's first rays show at the right a mead,
Also a pond, though o'ergrown with reed.

Within the reed a long necked heron tries
To find its feed of toadlet, frog and flies.
Above the centre flits a fishing bird, —
Swift on its wing, — its cries are far off heard.

John jogged along, together with his shade
And with the dark thoughts which on his mind

weighed.
The bright sun o'er the country sheds its light,
Within John's heart though all is darkest night.

The sun had reached the top a-spreading heat,
It then came to John's mind 'tis time to eat.
At noon, the day before, he'd eaten last;
Fatigued and hungry, thought to break his fast.
All worn out, — his feet could hardly drag, —
Sat down, the rest of bacon from his bag
He ate. The bright sun looks at him from high,
A mirage views him with its fairy eye.

He had enjoyed his modest feed, then went
Up to the pond where on his knees he bent,
The broad rim of his hat with water filled,
Which he then drank, his burning thirst thus stilled.

The pond's shore he left gratefully behind,
His heavy eyelids him of sleep remind,
To have a restful sleep in soft grass-bed,
Upon a molehill laid his weary head.

His dreams carried him back from whence he came,
He held is his embrace the trembling frame
Of sweet Helen, but when to kiss her tried,
A thund'rous clap roused him all terrified.

He looked around the field with startling eyes,
Tempestuous clouds — he saw — o'erhung the skies,
So sudden did the thunderstorm grow,
As his own life a-sudden had turned to woe.

The world was clad in a most pitch-dark hue,
It thundered loud, God's arrows lightnings flew.
The channels of the clouds seemed ope to be:
The water of the pond foamed like a sea.

John, of his fur cloak turned the inside out,
Leaned on his staff, long, strong and stout.
The broadrim of his hat he turned down,
The storm he viewed thus with an icy frown.

As sudden as the storm had come it went,
As quickly it had all its fury spent.
On wings of wind the clouds were blown away:
A beauteous rainbow illumines the day.
John shaketh from his cloak the drops of rain,
And after that he starts his walk again.
When on that day the sun lay down to rest:
John would not yet his two feet's speed arrest.

Still on he trod, into the forest-heart;
His creaking steps set birds on wings to start.
He hears the raven's loud, ominous cries,...
The black bird just had pecked some dead beasts'

eyes.

No forest, beast, or raven does he heed:
John Kukoricza never lags his speed.
The pale moon spreads her yellow silvery sheen
All o'er the forest's narrow footpath's green.