Selected Poetry (Penguin) Read online

  1820

  The Nereid

  Out in the dark green seas that kiss the shores of Tauris

  I saw a Nereid by the light of early morning.

  I hardly dared to breathe; deep-hidden in the forest

  I watched; in the pellucid waters the demi-goddess

  High above the waves upraised her swan-white breasts

  And squeezed a lingering wake of foam from her streaming

  tresses.

  1820

  I have outlived desires,

  I and my dreams must part;

  Suffering is all I feel,

  I have an empty heart.

  Amid fate’s cruel storms

  My lantern has long waned –

  I live alone and sad:

  When shall I meet my end?

  So, on a branch stripped bare

  10Under the stormwind’s breath,

  The sudden chill of winter

  Spares one last trembling leaf.

  1821

  The Prisoner

  I sit behind bars. A young eagle,

  My unwilling companion, my equal,

  Below the unreachable light,

  Tears its food, wings raised as for flight;

  It looks at my window, my thoughts

  Are shared as it pecks and discards;

  Its look and its cry mean to say:

  ‘Free spirits we are – we’ll away!

  ‘It’s time for us both! We shall fly!

  10To the blue of the sea and the sky,

  To the mountain-peaks lost to the eye,

  To the heights where the winds play – and I!’

  1822

  A Songbird

  Abroad, I faithfully preserve

  My land’s old ritual:

  I free a songbird from its cage

  For Spring’s bright festival.

  And I am comforted at last;

  Why should I rail at God,

  While I possess the power to grant

  One creature that reward!

  1823

  Night

  My voice disturbs the silence of the night,

  All yearning and all tenderness for you.

  A single candle casts its fitful light

  From by my bed; my murmuring verses flow

  And overflow with love for you; and bright

  Your eyes upon me in the darkness glow

  And smile at me – and I can hear your voice:

  My love, my love … I love you … I am yours!

  1823

  Behold, a sower went forth to sow.

  I went alone before the dawn

  To sow the seed of liberty;

  In innocence and purity

  I cast the generative corn

  About the fields of slavery –

  My time was wasted, nothing stood

  Of all my toils and hopes for good …

  Submissive multitudes, graze on!

  You’ll not be roused by honour’s word.

  10What use is freedom to the herd?

  They must be either killed or shorn.

  We know their age-old heritage:

  The yoke with rattles and the scourge.

  1823

  [On Vorontsov]

  Half trade, half grand seigneur,

  Half wise man, half a fool,

  Half seasoned criminal –

  Ah, there’s hope he’ll mature.

  1824

  Zephyrs share

  The midnight air.

  All round

  You sound,

  Guadalquivir.

  The golden full moon gleams;

  Hush … a guitar … and see,

  High on a balcony

  A Spanish beauty leans.

  10Zephyrs share

  The midnight air.

  All round

  You sound,

  Guadalquivir.

  My angel, cast your veil!

  Shine like the dawn! And put

  Just one bewitching foot

  Outside your iron rail!

  Zephyrs share

  20The midnight air.

  All round

  You sound,

  Guadalquivir.

  1824

  To ***

  It comes to me again, that moment:

  You passed before my eyes,

  A fleeting vision of pure beauty,

  A spirit from the skies.

  In times of hopelessness, of sadness,

  The busy world’s great noise,

  Long did I dream of those dear features

  And hear that gentle voice.

  The years went by. Their storms dispersed

  10The dreams of former days,

  And I forgot your gentle voice,

  Forgot your heavenly face.

  I lived in dark incarceration,

  My days quite empty of

  Divinity and inspiration,

  And tears, and life, and love.

  But now my soul awakes from slumber:

  Once more before my eyes

  A fleeting vision of pure beauty,

  20A spirit from the skies.

  And suddenly my heart beats faster,

  For once again I have

  Divinity and inspiration,

  And life, and tears, and love.

  1825

  Late blooms I find more pleasing

  Than any bright first flower.

  In us they awaken

  A sadness livelier far.

  Livelier than sweet meeting

  Can be the parting hour.

  1825

  Winter Evening

  Heavy stormclouds hide the sky,

  Whirling snowflakes wild;

  Howling like a savage beast,

  Sobbing like a child,

  Rustling on the withered roof

  Sheaves of ancient straw,

  Like some late, lost traveller

  Beating on the door.

  Here inside our broken hovel

  10All is dark and bleak.

  Little old nanny at your window,

  Why do you not speak?

  Are you wearied, my dear friend,

  By the thunder-peal?

  Are you lulled into a doze

  By your humming wheel?

  Come, let’s drink, my dear companion,

  First to take my part,

  Come and drink now; where’s the tankard?

  20We’ll be light at heart.

  Sing to me of how the blue-tit

  Dwelt beyond the sea;

  How the maiden went for water

  Early on the lea.

  Heavy stormclouds hide the sky,

  Whirling snowflakes wild;

  Howling like a savage beast,

  Sobbing like a child.

  Come, let’s drink, my dear companion,

  30First to take my part,

  Come and drink now; where’s the tankard?

  We’ll be light at heart.

  1825

  Prose Writer and Poet

  Prose writer, let me share your thought,

  And in a very little time,

  Should your labours come to naught,

  It will be pointed, fledged with rhyme

  And laid upon a tautened string;

  I’ll loose it from my ready bow –

  High in the air the shaft shall sing

  And truly it will strike the foe!

  1825

  Mniszek’s ‘sonnet’

  from Boris Godunov

  (Governor Mniszek’s castle in Sambor)

  MNISZEK

  Old men like us no longer join the dance;

  The stamp of the mazurka has no thrill

  For us who do not squeeze or kiss soft hands …

  Ah, memories of those times are with me still!

  Now things are different, youth is not so bold,

  Nor beauty so light-hearted as we knew it –

  I fear we must acknowledge that the world

  Is now a duller place
; we’ll leave them to it.

  I would propose we don’t stay here, my friend,

  10One moment more; we’ll see if we can find

  A flask of Magyar vintage, earth-encrusted,

  And in a corner, just the two of us,

  We’ll pour the rich, fat, fragrant stream and taste it,

  And there’ll be many things we shall discuss.

  Dear comrade, come.

  WISNIOWIECKI

  Yes, just the two of us.

  1825

  Confession

  I love you – though it makes me mad,

  Despite my hopeless toil and shame,

  In folly and humility,

  Before you on my knees, I love you!

  It ill befits me, and my years …

  It’s time, it’s time that I were wiser!

  I recognise by all the signs,

  However, I am sick with love:

  Without you I am bored, I yawn;

  10But when I see you I am sad,

  I must put up with it; my angel,

  I have to tell you, how I love you!

  I hear the rustle of your dress,

  Your light step from the sitting-room,

  Your voice of girlish innocence,

  And I completely lose my head.

  You smile – the world is joy for me;

  You turn from me – the world is sorrow;

  When I endure a day of torture,

  20Your pale hand is my recompense.

  And when you lean at your embroidery,

  With lowered eyes and locks, I gaze

  In rapture, tongue-tied as a child! …

  Shall I describe my jealous torment

  When I observe your preparations

  To go out walking in the rain?

  The tears you shed in solitude?

  Your chats with someone who’s not me?

  Or expeditions to Opochka?

  30Or evenings at the pianoforte? …

  Alina, please take pity on me.

  I shall not dare to ask for love.

  Perhaps, my angel, for my sins

  I am unworthy of your love!

  Only pretend! That glance of yours –

  It is so wonderfully expressive!

  Deceive me – it’s not difficult …

  Oh, I am glad to be deceived!

  1826

  The Prophet

  I wandered in a lonely place;

  My soul’s great thirst tormented me, –

  And at a crossing of the ways

  A six-winged seraph came to me.

  Like slumber, fingers light and wise

  He laid upon my weary eyes:

  And like an eagle’s in amaze

  They opened with all-seeing gaze.

  My ears he touched, – and noise and sound

  10Poured into them from all around:

  I heard the heavens in commotion,

  And angel hosts’ celestial flight,

  And sea-beasts stirring in the ocean,

  And vines’ growth on the valley-side.

  And to my lips he bent, tore out

  My tongue, an idle, sinful thing;

  With bloody hand, in my numb mouth

  He placed a serpent’s sapient tongue.

  And with his sword he clove my breast,

  20And took my trembling heart entire;

  A coal alight with brilliant fire

  Into my opened breast he thrust.

  In that lone place I lay as dead,

  And God’s voice called to me, and said:

  ‘Prophet, arise, behold and hearken:

  Over the world, by sea and land,

  Go, and fulfil my will unshaken,

  Burn with my Word the heart of man.’

  1826

  Moscow and St Petersburg, 1826–30

  [To my Nanny]

  My dear companion of past times,

  My angel through adversity!

  Alone amongst the age-old pines

  Long years you have awaited me.

  Sadly at your window-sill

  You watch as if on sentry-go;

  Your wrinkled hands are active still,

  But now your needlework is slow.

  You gaze at the forgotten gate,

  10The dark and disappearing path:

  Cares and forebodings pile their weight,

  From hour to hour, on your poor heart.

  You think you hear …

  1826

  Winter Road

  The moon breaks through the drifting cloud

  And on the dismal winter road,

  On glades of gloom, pours dreary light.

  In a swift troika-sleigh I ride;

  Unceasingly the little bell

  Gives out its loud and tedious peal.

  The endless songs the driver sings

  Speak to me of many things,

  Sometimes of wild abandonment

  10And sometimes yearnings of the heart …

  No beckoning lights, no black huts show …

  Out of the endless stretch of snow

  Only the banded verst-posts rear …

  I’m sad … Tomorrow, Nina dear,

  Before the fire the whole day through

  I shall gaze my fill of you.

  The noisy mantel-clock’s hour hand

  Will at long last complete its round,

  Removing tiresome stay-up-laters,

  20And midnight shall not separate us.

  Nina, I’m sad: the road is bleak,

  The driver mute now, half-asleep,

  The moon quite out of sight to us,

  The bell so loud and tedious.

  1826

  To I. I. Pushchin

  First friend from long ago!

  How I rejoiced at fate –

  Into my lonely yard

  Wrapped in its sad snow,

  A sleigh bell brought your voice.

  Now may Providence

  Carry my voice to you,

  May it console you too,

  And bring to your dark sentence

  10The light of Lycée days!

  1826

  Deep in the Siberian mines

  Hold your heads up high;

  Your toils shall not have been in vain,

  Your noble thoughts not die.

  The faithful sister of misfortune,

  Hope, in darkest gloom

  Shall bring you happiness and courage,

  The longed-for time shall come:

  Friendship and love shall find their way,

  10As surely break all bolts

  As my free voice now reaches you

  Deep in your penal holes.

  Your heavy shackles shall be loosened,

  Prisons yield up their hordes –

  And joyful freedom shall embrace you,

  Brothers give back your swords.

  1827

  Arion

  On that boat there were many of us;

  Some went about their task aloft,

  Some cleaved the waves with heavy oars

  To move the fully laden craft.

  Our skilful helmsman, wordless, steered,

  While I, with boldly ringing song,

  Gave courage … Then a whirlwind flung

  Its worst at us, the waters reared …

  The helmsman perished, all the crew! –

  10The tempest churned the depths and threw

  Me, the mysterious bard, ashore,

  Of all that ship the only one.

  I sing the hymns I sang before

  And dry my wet robe in the sun.

  1827

  The Angel

  At Heaven’s gate a gentle angel

  Shone with downcast eyes,

  While a demon darkly hovered

  Over Hell’s abyss.

  The spirit of denial and doubt

  Met that pure spirit’s eyes,

  And deep within there came to him

  A stir of tenderness.

  ‘Farewell,’ said
he. ‘Now I behold you,

  10Shining on my eyes,

  Not all in Heaven do I hate,

  Not all the world despise.’

  1827

  The Poet

  As yet unsummoned by Apollo

  For dedicated sacrifice,

  The poet is content to follow

  Paths of worldly enterprise;

  Now the sacred lyre is quiet,

  His soul is lost in slumber, cold;

  Among the lowly of the world

  None more lowly than the poet.

  But when Apollo’s godly word

  10Touches his attentive senses,

  At once the poet’s soul is stirred,

  And like a wakened eagle, tenses.

  Among the world’s pursuits he yearns,

  From everyday affairs he turns,

  Before the idol of the crowd

  His haughty head will not be bowed;

  With countenance wild and stern he goes,

  His ear is filled with strange commotion,

  He seeks out spacious, singing groves,

  20The verges of the lonely ocean …

  1827

  19 October 1827

  My friends, amid the cares of life,

  In service of the Tsar,

  In comradeship’s unbuttoned revels,

  In love’s sweet mysteries,

  May God protect you!

  My friends, through tumult and disaster,

  In common pain and grief,

  In foreign land, on lonely ocean,

  And at the Earth’s abysses,

  10May God protect you!

  1827

  The Talisman

  Where the waves forever play

  By the lonely shore,

  Where the moon brings warmth of day

  At the twilight hour,

  Where the harem’s leisured bliss

  Soothes the Mussulman,

  There a sorceress, with caress,

  Gave me a talisman.

  Said the sorceress, with caress:

  10‘Take this from my trove:

  Secret properties it has!

  It is the gift of love.

  But from sickness, from the grave,

  From the hurricane,

  You will not be saved, my love,