In lakeside leafy groves a friar
Escaped the world; out there he passed
His summer days in constant prayer,
Deep studies and eternal fast.
Already with a humble shovel
The elder dug himself a grave;
And calling saints to bless his hovel,
Death, nothing other, did he crave.

So once upon a falling night he
Bowed down beside his droopy shack
And meekly prayed to the Almighty.
The grove was turning slowly black;
Above the lake a mist was lifting;
Through milky clouds across the sky
The ruddy moon was softly drifting,
When water drew the friar's eye...

He looks there, puzzled, full of trouble,
A fear he cannot quite explain,
And sees: the waves begin to bubble
And suddenly grow calm again.
Then -- white as first snow in the highlands,
Light-footed as nocturnal shade,
There comes ashore and sits in silence
Upon the bank a naked maid.

She eyes the monk and brushes gently
Her hair and water off her arms.
He shakes with fear and looks intently
At her and at her lovely charms.
With eager hands she waves and beckons,
Nods quickly, smiling from afar,
Then -- shoots within two flashing seconds
Into still water like a star.

The glum old man slept not an instant
All night, all day not once he prayed:
Before his eyes still hung and glistened
The wondrous girl's persistent shade...
The grove puts on the gown of nightfall;
The moon walks on the cloudy floor;
And there's the maiden, pale, delightful,
Reclining on the spellbound shore.

She looks at him, her hair she brushes,
Nods, sends him kisses drolly wild,
Plays with the waves -- caresses, splashes, --
Now laughs, now whimpers like a child,
Moans tenderly, calls louder, louder...
"Come, monk, come, monk!  To me, to me!.."
Then -- vanishes in limpid water...
And all is silent instantly...

On the third day the ardent hermit
Was sitting by the shore, in love,
Awaiting the enticing mermaid,
As shade was lying on the grove...
Dark ceded to the sun's emergence;
By then the monk had disappeared,
No one knew where, and only urchins,
While swimming, saw a hoary beard.

Where the sea -- eternal stormer --
Splashes on deserted scaurs,
Where the moon is shining warmer
At the tender nightfall hours,
Where bondmaidens serve in duty
To the reveling mussulman,
There, caressing me, a beauty
Handed me a talisman.

And she spoke to me, caressing:
"Keep this talisman, my dove:
It contains a secret blessing!
It is given you by love.
Should it happen that from blizzard,
Threat, misfortune, death you ran,
You would not be saved by wizard
Powers of my talisman.

"And of oriental profit
It will never bring to you;
And adorers of the Prophet
It will never win to you;
And to northern lands from southern
All across the global span
To the bosom of your brethren
Carries not my talisman.

"But when wily eyes should harness
Your sad fancy suddenly,
And unloving lips in darkness
Give a kiss of falsity --
Then, o friend! from crime, from letting
New heart wounds on my dear man,
From betrayal, from forgetting
Will preserve my talisman!"

I loved you: and, it may be, from my soul
The former love has never gone away,
But let it not recall to you my dole;
I wish not sadden you in any way. 

I loved you silently, without hope, fully,
In diffidence, in jealousy, in pain;
I loved you so tenderly and truly, 
As let you else be loved by any man

What means for you my simple name?
It soon will die as voice of grief --
A wave splash at a distant reef,
A stir in wilderness untamed. 

In pray-for-dead despondent rolls
It will leave just the lethal trace
That likes the epitaph in lace,
Which nobody discerns at all.

What does it hold? Forgotten whole 
In new and rebel agitation,
It will not give to your young soul  
The clear and gentle commemorations.

But in the sad and silent day
You will repeat this name with fervor;
There is in whole world, you say, 
The heart in which I live forever... 

Children run into the izba,
Hail their father, drip with sweat:
"Daddy, Daddy!  Come -- there is a
Deadman caught inside our net."
"Scary, scary fabrication,
Grumbled back the weary Pa,
Oh these imps' imagination!
Deadman, really; ya-ha-ha!

Hmm... the court may come and bother;
What'll I say before the judge?..
Hey you brats, go have your mother
Bring my coat; I'd better trudge...
So, where is he?" -- "There, Dad, farther!"
On the sand where dragnet ropes
Lay spread out, the children's father
Saw a veritable corpse.

Badly mangled, ugly, frightening,
Blue and swollen on each side --
Has he fished in storm and lightning,
Or committed suicide?
Could this be a careless drunkard,
Or a mermaid-seeking monk,
Or a trusting merchant, conquered
By some bandits, robbed and sunk?

To the peasant, what's it matter?
Quick, he grabs the dead man's hair,
Drags the body to the water,
Looks around -- no one is there --
Good; relieved of the concern he
Grabbed the paddle, gave a toss,
And the stiff resumed his journey
Down the stream for grave and cross.

Long the dead man, like one living,
Rolled on waves amid the foam.
Having watched his gradual leaving,
Our glum peasant started home.
"Come, you pups!  Let's go, don't scatter.
Each of you will get a bun.
But remember: just you chatter --
And I'll whip you, every one."

Dark and stormy it was turning;
High the river ran in gloom.
Now the torch has finished burning
In the peasant's smoky room.
Kids asleep, the wife aslumber,
He lies listening to the rain;
Bang! he hears a sudden comer
Knocking on the windowpane.

"Yeah?" -- "Hey, let me in there, master!"
"Cain, you found the time to roam!
Well, what is it, your disaster?
Let you in?  It's dark at home,
Dark and crowded...  What a pest you are!
Where'd I fit you in my cot?.."
Finally with lazy gesture
He lifts up the pane, and what--

Out of clouds the moon was showing;
Well?  A naked man was there,
Water down his beard was flowing,
Wide the eyes, unmoved the stare.
Wholly numb the dreadful body,
Arms were hanging, feeble, thin;
Crabs and cancers, black and bloody,
Sucked into the swollen skin.

And the peasant slammed the shutter;
Recognized his visitant,
Horror-struck he could but mutter
"May you burst!" and start to pant.
He was shivering, awful chaos
All night through stirred in his brain,
While the knocking shook the house
By the gates and at the pane.

People tell a frightful rumor:
Ever since, each year, they say,
The poor peasant, out of humor,
Waits his visitor that day.
Early on, the storm's increasing,
Nightfall brings a hurricane,
And the drowned man knocks, unceasing,
By the gates and at the pane.




 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Longing for spiritual springs,
I dragged myself through desert sands ...
An angel with three pairs of wings
Arrived to me at cross of lands;
With fingers so light and slim
He touched my eyes as in a dream:
And opened my prophetic eyes 
Like eyes of eagle in surprise.
He touched my ears in movement, single,
And they were filled with noise and jingle:
I heard a shuddering of heavens,
And angels' flight on azure heights
And  creatures' crawl in long sea nights, 
And rustle of vines in distant valleys.
And he bent down to my chin,
And he tore off my tongue of sin,
In cheat and idle talks aroused,
And with his hand in bloody specks
He put the sting of wizard snakes  
Into my deadly stoned mouth. 
With his sharp sword he cleaved my breast,
And plucked my quivering heart out,
And coals flamed with God's behest, 
Into my gaping breast were ground.
Like dead I lay on desert sands,
And listened to the God's commands:
'Arise, O prophet, hark and see, 
Be filled with utter My demands,
And, going over Land and Sea,
Burn with your Word the humane hearts.

Farewell, free element of sea!
For one last time I watch your tide
Roll azure waves in front of me
And shine in beauty full of pride.

Like farewell mutter of a friend
Deserted for a colder clime,
The sad, inviting call you send
Resounds to me for one last time.

Beloved region of my soul!
How often, next to your shoreline,
Mute and beclouded I would stroll,
Worn by my ultimate design!

How much I loved your deep replies,
Your chasm's voice, your splashes' chime,
And silence at the evening time,
And gusts of fanciful surprise!

Tradesmen or fishers' humble boat
Glides bravely, guarded by your will,
Amid the waves, for days afloat;
But you turn rough, impregnable --
And schools of ships go down your throat.

I never got to say goodnight
To this unmoving, boring shore,
Greet you with surges of delight
And level my poetic flight
Along your crests forevermore.

You called, you waited... but the chain
And mighty passion held me bound;
My soul went out to you in vain;
Still, I remained upon the ground.

What to regret?  Where, in distress,
Would I now set my path and goal?
One object in your wilderness
Could still affect my frigid soul.

One lofty crag, a glorious tomb...
There stately memories dwelled on
And plunged in sleep of cold and gloom:
There faded great Napoleon.

Amid great pangs he rested there.
And like a thunder afterwards,
Another genius left us bare,
Another master of our hearts.

He fled, bewailed by liberty,
Bequeathing to the world his palms.
Grow agitated, roar, o sea:
Of you, of you he sang his psalms.

Your image was designed on him,
In spirit he was made the same:
Like you, dynamic, deep and grim.
Like you, impossible to tame.

The world grew empty...  Ocean, where,
What shore now would you cast me at?
Same all around the earthly share:
Where shows a drop of welfare, there
Guards preaching or an autocrat.

Farewell then, sea!  I won't forget
Your beauty full of solemn power;
Long, long will I be hearing yet
Your rumble at an evening hour.

To silent wilderness, to groves
I'll carry over, filled with you,
Your crags and waves, your bays and coves,
And shine, and shade, and murmuring blue.