Hana Kvapilová: An Island in the Open Sea
The full bloom of a July day has lit up the red rock in the sea, lonely as a heart that was betrayed.
The blazing sun in the wide, joyful sky descends into my heart. I lie on the shore in rapturous wonder. From time to time, a flower of droplets slaps my face when a wave breaks on the rocks; little peas of crystal roll down the fabric of my dress.
I am happy like a child; I feel life beating through my artery and burning in my blood. I cry out something incoherent.
The suns’ molten disc dazzles the eyes; it is all wrapped in a gold, quivering web of rays. They cross paths and dart into the sea, lighting up and fading out in a flood of brilliant flashes, their sparks shining with fervent fierceness, bouncing, disappearing, lighting up like diamonds.
The legions of their stars travel far away, to meet with sorrow and with joy. The sea sings its last song to the sun in a vivacious ripple, revelling in colour and sound, sensing that the tide is nigh and the fall is coming soon. A peak shines white like snow to assert its right to bathe in the sun. Its white sand cries out every time the sun’s rays brush against it. The crystal waves of the emerald sea are pummelling its shores. It lies there like a pure, giant pearl [...].