The Insect Poem by Ivan Turgenev

I dreamed that we were sitting, a party of twenty, in a big room with open
windows.

Among us were women, children, old men…. We were all talking of some very
well-known subject, talking noisily and indistinctly.

Suddenly, with a sharp, whirring sound, there flew into the room a big
insect, two inches long… it flew in, circled round, and settled on the
wall.

It was like a fly or a wasp. Its body dirt-coloured; of the same colour
too its flat, stiff wings; outspread feathered claws, and a head thick
and angular, like a dragon-fly's; both head and claws were bright red, as
though steeped in blood.

This strange insect incessantly turned its head up and down, to right and
to left, moved its claws… then suddenly darted from the wall, flew with
a whirring sound about the room, and again settled, again hatefully and
loathsomely wriggling all over, without stirring from the spot.

In all of us it excited a sensation of loathing, dread, even terror….
No one of us had ever seen anything like it. We all cried: 'Drive that
monstrous thing away!' and waved our handkerchiefs at it from a distance
… but no one ventured to go up to it… and when the insect began
flying, every one instinctively moved away.

Only one of our party, a pale-faced young man, stared at us all in
amazement He shrugged his shoulders; he smiled, and positively could not
conceive what had happened to us, and why we were in such a state of
excitement. He himself did not see an insect at all, did not hear the
ill-omened whirr of its wings.

All at once the insect seemed to stare at him, darted off, and dropping
on his head, stung him on the forehead, above the eyes…. The young man
feebly groaned, and fell dead.

The fearful fly flew out at once…. Only then we guessed what it was had
visited us.