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Diary of One Who Vanished: A Song Cycle by Leos Janacek of Poems by Ozef Kalda
A Cycle of Love Songs Translated by the Nobel Laureate
"Dappled woodland light,
Spring well chill and bright,
Eyes like stars at night,
Open knees so white.
Four things death itself won't cover,
Unforgettable forever."
In 1917, while reading his local newspaper, the Czech composer Leos Janacek discovered the poems that he was to set to music in his song cycle Diary of One Who Vanished. Written by Ozef Kalda and published anonymously, they tell the story of a farmer's boy who abandons his home because he has fallen in love with a Gypsy. These new English versions by Seamus Heaney were commissioned by the English National Opera for a series of international performances, which opened in Dublin in October 1999.
"Dappled woodland light,
Spring well chill and bright,
Eyes like stars at night,
Open knees so white.
Four things death itself won't cover,
Unforgettable forever."
In 1917, while reading his local newspaper, the Czech composer Leos Janacek discovered the poems that he was to set to music in his song cycle Diary of One Who Vanished. Written by Ozef Kalda and published anonymously, they tell the story of a farmer's boy who abandons his home because he has fallen in love with a Gypsy. These new English versions by Seamus Heaney were commissioned by the English National Opera for a series of international performances, which opened in Dublin in October 1999.
- GenresPoetry
48 pages, Paperback
First published October 27, 2000
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
July 16, 2025
“I startled this young gypsy girl
Lightfooted as a deer,
Black ringlets on her mushroom breast,
Her eyes like the night air,
Two eyes that cut deep into me
As she slipped behind a tree,
Two eyes that haunt and follow me
All the long
long day.”
—
“That dark gypsy lass
Keeps coming to the townland:
Why is she still out there?
Why is she still out there?
What brings her near the place?
My heart, be still and wait.
Pray God grant me respite
And pray that praying helps
Or my plight is helpless.”
—
“Glow-worms in the gloaming
Glimmer through their dances,
In the twilit hay-field
A lonely figure wanders.
Keep away. Leave me be
For I won't be tempted.
Why do I see so clear
Mother brokenhearted?
Now the moon is setting,
Country shadows darken:
Someone stands stock-still
Beyond there, past the gable.
Two eyes like hot coals
Are glowing in the night.
God Almighty, O dear
God Almighty, help me!
Send me Your light.”
—
“Now small scaldies twitter
And chirrup in their nest.
I have lain awake all night
As if on thistles.
Now it is break of day,
The east fills up with dawn.
I have lain awake all night
On a bed of thorn!”
—
“Ploughing makes me weary,
I got so little sleep
And when I did get sleep
Dreaming of her woke me.”
—
“Who's out there
haunting me
I want her
turned to stone.
Throbbing head.
Molten lead
Is pouring through
my burning mind.”
—
“My plough-pin is broken.
I'll have to stop and mend it.
So, oxen, stand your ground,
Soon all will work again.
Over there I'll cut one
From that boor-tree bower.
Who can escape his fate?
Fate comes upon its hour.”
—
"Still you stand there staring,
Silent as a statue.
Do I scare you that much?
What has happened to you?
Move beside me closer.
Why are you so distant?
Is it just my colour?
Does that still disturb you?
My face and hands and arms
Are burnt dark in the sun
But parts I'll let you see
The sunlight's never seen."
—
“‘I keep my dew-cold fingers
Warm-buried in my lap.’
In her skirt she lay
Bare on the barren ground
And for sad virtue's sake
He wept with a sad heart.”
—
“Dappled woodland light,
Spring well chill and bright,
Eyes like stars at night,
Open knees so white.
Four things death itself won't cover,
Unforgettable forever.”
—
“Sun and sunlight heighten,
Shadows shorten.
Who, O who can bring back
All I have forfeited?”
—
“Who can escape his fate?
Fate comes upon its hour.
Evenings now I hurry
To the boor-tree bower.
What is it leads me there?
Looking for strawberries...
Tiny leaves prinked open.
Taste of felicity!”
—
“Dark night in Zefka's bed,
The small hours of love.
Roosters, I'll wring your necks
If you don't stop crowing.
Roosters, your cry at dawn
Is beyond enduring—
Interrupting love's
Deep dream and yearning.
With her in my arms
I defy the morning.”
—
“Magpie, sorrow's magpie
Rising up suddenly,
Did you rob my sister's
Washing on wash day?
What if she should ever
Find who the real thief was?
She would abhor me,
All of my lies to her.
Holy God, Holy God,
What has come over me?
Everything's upended. God,
What has happened to me?
I kick against myself
Like a horse that's spancelled.
Prayers pour through my mind like
Sand down through an hourglass.”
—
“Father, what made you think
My match could be arranged?
Father, you little knew
What sort of son you'd raised.
As the night follows day
Punishment's sure to come.
Father, my fate is clear,
Cannot be escaped from.”
—
“There'll be no returning.
To find my life, I lose it.
Destiny directs me.
Life's doorway stands open.”
Lightfooted as a deer,
Black ringlets on her mushroom breast,
Her eyes like the night air,
Two eyes that cut deep into me
As she slipped behind a tree,
Two eyes that haunt and follow me
All the long
long day.”
—
“That dark gypsy lass
Keeps coming to the townland:
Why is she still out there?
Why is she still out there?
What brings her near the place?
My heart, be still and wait.
Pray God grant me respite
And pray that praying helps
Or my plight is helpless.”
—
“Glow-worms in the gloaming
Glimmer through their dances,
In the twilit hay-field
A lonely figure wanders.
Keep away. Leave me be
For I won't be tempted.
Why do I see so clear
Mother brokenhearted?
Now the moon is setting,
Country shadows darken:
Someone stands stock-still
Beyond there, past the gable.
Two eyes like hot coals
Are glowing in the night.
God Almighty, O dear
God Almighty, help me!
Send me Your light.”
—
“Now small scaldies twitter
And chirrup in their nest.
I have lain awake all night
As if on thistles.
Now it is break of day,
The east fills up with dawn.
I have lain awake all night
On a bed of thorn!”
—
“Ploughing makes me weary,
I got so little sleep
And when I did get sleep
Dreaming of her woke me.”
—
“Who's out there
haunting me
I want her
turned to stone.
Throbbing head.
Molten lead
Is pouring through
my burning mind.”
—
“My plough-pin is broken.
I'll have to stop and mend it.
So, oxen, stand your ground,
Soon all will work again.
Over there I'll cut one
From that boor-tree bower.
Who can escape his fate?
Fate comes upon its hour.”
—
"Still you stand there staring,
Silent as a statue.
Do I scare you that much?
What has happened to you?
Move beside me closer.
Why are you so distant?
Is it just my colour?
Does that still disturb you?
My face and hands and arms
Are burnt dark in the sun
But parts I'll let you see
The sunlight's never seen."
—
“‘I keep my dew-cold fingers
Warm-buried in my lap.’
In her skirt she lay
Bare on the barren ground
And for sad virtue's sake
He wept with a sad heart.”
—
“Dappled woodland light,
Spring well chill and bright,
Eyes like stars at night,
Open knees so white.
Four things death itself won't cover,
Unforgettable forever.”
—
“Sun and sunlight heighten,
Shadows shorten.
Who, O who can bring back
All I have forfeited?”
—
“Who can escape his fate?
Fate comes upon its hour.
Evenings now I hurry
To the boor-tree bower.
What is it leads me there?
Looking for strawberries...
Tiny leaves prinked open.
Taste of felicity!”
—
“Dark night in Zefka's bed,
The small hours of love.
Roosters, I'll wring your necks
If you don't stop crowing.
Roosters, your cry at dawn
Is beyond enduring—
Interrupting love's
Deep dream and yearning.
With her in my arms
I defy the morning.”
—
“Magpie, sorrow's magpie
Rising up suddenly,
Did you rob my sister's
Washing on wash day?
What if she should ever
Find who the real thief was?
She would abhor me,
All of my lies to her.
Holy God, Holy God,
What has come over me?
Everything's upended. God,
What has happened to me?
I kick against myself
Like a horse that's spancelled.
Prayers pour through my mind like
Sand down through an hourglass.”
—
“Father, what made you think
My match could be arranged?
Father, you little knew
What sort of son you'd raised.
As the night follows day
Punishment's sure to come.
Father, my fate is clear,
Cannot be escaped from.”
—
“There'll be no returning.
To find my life, I lose it.
Destiny directs me.
Life's doorway stands open.”
Read
July 1, 2021Picked this up because of Seamus Heaney and enjoyed it a great deal. Mournful and romantic. It was a quick read though, I’d like to return to it with my own copy so I can write my notes in it, reread a couple of times. Maybe also find footage of a performance.
August 26, 2019
A pleasant discovery in my own library! I must hear the music!
March 23, 2017
I don't really understand how this book works. Parts of it were very beautiful, parts of it were just okay. I think that it's supposed to be set to music but I don't really know.
August 12, 2008
Although this is an interesting translation (as well as an interesting choice for translation by Heaney), I think this volume is missing something without the music. The poem itself, divided into twenty-two parts, isn't all that long, but there are places blank because it's intended for music to be performed; in fact, it premiered in Dublin and London in 1999, so there must be a musical version out there somewhere, and I'd be interested to hear it.
Essentially, a young man falls in love with a gypsy and, once it's discovered that she's pregnant, he's ostracized from his community. The interest, for me, was in the vacillation between his feelings for her and his loyalties to his family. But, by the end of the poem, I wasn't sure if he'd decided that he was leaving with regrets over his actions, and I wish that he had either taken full responsibility or felt as doomed as he states over and over.
(The references to doom, in fact, gave the poem a Beowulf-ian feel, and the situation at the beginning, when the man first fell in love with the gypsy, reminded me of Tolkien's Tale of Beren and Luthien; both references make sense, though, given Heaney's popular translation of Beowulf and scholarly writings on Tolkien.)
Nice example of Czech poetry for one (like me) who's a novice to it, but I still wish I had the music.
Essentially, a young man falls in love with a gypsy and, once it's discovered that she's pregnant, he's ostracized from his community. The interest, for me, was in the vacillation between his feelings for her and his loyalties to his family. But, by the end of the poem, I wasn't sure if he'd decided that he was leaving with regrets over his actions, and I wish that he had either taken full responsibility or felt as doomed as he states over and over.
(The references to doom, in fact, gave the poem a Beowulf-ian feel, and the situation at the beginning, when the man first fell in love with the gypsy, reminded me of Tolkien's Tale of Beren and Luthien; both references make sense, though, given Heaney's popular translation of Beowulf and scholarly writings on Tolkien.)
Nice example of Czech poetry for one (like me) who's a novice to it, but I still wish I had the music.
August 14, 2015
Excellent translation, and one sorely needed.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews