Morris Rosenfeld

(1862-1923 / Poland)

The Mountain Bride - Poem by Morris Rosenfeld

UPON the Alleghany mountains is to be seen a
ruin : there lies an old, caved-in coal mine.

And not far from that ruin, lonely and deserted,
stands a small hut among wild grasses.

There the old miner used to find rest at night :
there sobs were heard and quiet tears flowed.

But the desolated coal mine, blood has flowed
there: underground lies the old miner and his
daughter's affianced.

And his goodly, beautiful daughter oh, what
can be worse ? wanders with unsound mind over
the silent mountains.

Alone she lives among the rocks, without conso-
lation, without hope ; only late at night she softly
falls asleep upon the ruin.

And as soon as she slumbers, musicians begin to
play, and her father and her affianced open up the
graves.

And with it, all the tombs are opened, all a-sing-
ing, and not far away, from the cloister, muffled
bells are rung.

Silent as the grave, covered with black gore, the
stark, dead body of the affianced takes in his arm
his bride.

Her old father, with gaping wounds, approaches
them ; he weeps and blesses his children, sobs and
disappears.

Silenced are the musicians and all the bells : all
disappears, and all is mute; only the betrothed
remain behind.

They remain and dance quietly, no one dis-
turbs them until, when beckoned from afar, the
bridegroom vanishes.

Then the dead man's bride leaps up : ' O you
butchers of men ! ' and she disappears upon the
mountains with wild laughter.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 22, 2010



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