SMETANA

THE TWO WIDOWS

Karolina, a widow, owner of a large estate in the fertile heartland of Europe, is perfectly happy with things just as they are, unencumbered by husband or lover:

KAROLINA

Lady of the land, I reign

Over field and country,

Queen of an entire domain,

Served by all and sundry.

Time to sew or time to reap,

Mow lawns, trim the borders,

Shoe the horses, sheer the sheep,

I give all the orders.

Prima-donna of the dairy,

Autocrat of sty and stable,

My cuisine is legendary

And my brew a thing of fable.

Famous for my bees and honey,

Healthy flocks, and flax and linen,

When the sky’s serene and sunny

I’m the happiest of women.

Who is better off than I?

Weigh the evidence presented,

Think it over, then reply:

Tell me, lives there widow more contented?

Think it over, then reply:

Who is more contented?

Lives there widow more contented than I?

At the county fair I star,

Winning all the glory.

My displays are best by far

In each category.

Then my name is in the news,

Sometimes half a column,

And I comfort those who lose

In words wise and solemn.

I complain and pay my taxes,

Read the journals, duly noting

How the market wanes and waxes;

Ever first in line for voting.

I speak out on matters local,

Claim the mayor’s but a novice

And the governor a yokel.

Throw the rascals out of office!

Who is better off than I? etc.

The spirit of spring permeates the air:

May, oh month of green! Lovely spring!

Then the woods awake, blossoming.

And mid the song of thrush and lark

Love opens dazzled eyes,

Feeds on the flowers of earthly paradise.

Lovely May, sweet time of love!

Lovely May, our time of love!

Brief the spring of youth, sweet delight!

Soon to slip away, swift in flight.

And when the season withers,

Long though we sigh in vain,

Youth once departed

Never will come again.

Lovely May, sweet time of love!

Lovely May, our time of love!

Unlike her cousin, Anezka, the more sober-minded of the two widows, suffers and longs for love, even though she seems to deny herself deliberately:

Thou, at peace, within the graveyard sleeping,

Costly is that promise I am keeping.

Sworn forever, ever I deny

Love where alone my happiness could lie . . .

Cruel! Cruel!

Love would have me suffer,

For the cup contains but tears I’ve wept.

Harsh! Oh, Goddess!

For you grant another

That fulfilling bliss I could have kept . . .

Rare and radiant lovely day!

Nature at peace and birds at play.

Sunlight sweet and sky unclouded,

Blossoms where the seedling sprouted.

What a joy this life would be,

But for love and jealousy!

Day of bright festivity!

All is mirth and revelry.

Gift that knows not rank nor merit;

None so poor that they may share it.

Multi-colored scene!

World of blue and green,

Fields of golden grain,

Gardens after rain.

North to south and west to east,

A bountiful, abundant feast.

Rare and radiant lovely day!

I, alone outside, am not to enter.

Looking on, I am my own tormentor.

Though the feast awaits with table spread,

I refuse it, for my soul is dead.

Sick at heart in my lonely passion.

Wretched widow, miserable woman!

Where, oh where?

What comfort have I left,

Lost in this world of love bereft?

Another take on love:

Love is a fire, a fatal affliction,

Call it a fever, call it a fiction.

All of us victim, peasant or poet,

Who would refuse it? Who would forgo it?