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,
Selected Poetry (Penguin) Page 7