Classic Poem

By a river, swiftly flowing,
Perched Holubka and Holub,
Lovers, how they kissed each other!
Close embracing with their wings.
" Thou art my good luck, " said she,
" I would give my life for thine! "

From the wood an Eagle old
Sudden flew and killed Holub.
Then he bore Holubka far —
Over the swift rivers bore —
Strewed before her golden wheat,
Sad, she mourned and would not eat.
And she sang: " Holub's not here,
Now he never will be here! "

" Seven pairs of pigeons wait
For thy choosing, foolish child —
Take the one thou wouldest have. "

" Though there should be twenty-four
Never one like my true love! "