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When, heaving on the stormy waters, I felt my ship beneath to sink, I prayed, "Oh, Father Satan, save me, Forgive me at death's utter brink!
"If you will save my soul embittered From perishing before its hour, The days to come, the nights that follow I vow to vice, I pledge to power."
The Devil forthwith snatched and flung me Into a boat; the sides were frail, But on the bench the oars were lying And in the bow an old gray sail.
And landward once again I carried My outcast soul, bereft of kin, Upon its sick and vicious sojourn My body and its gift of sin.
And I am faithful, Father Satan, Unto my evil hour's vow, When from my drowning ship you saved me And when I prayed you guide the prow.
To you descend my praises, Father, No day from bitter blame exempt. O'er worlds my blasphemy shall tower; And I shall tempt -- and I shall tempt.
Fyodor Sologub
Read poems about / on: father, sick, evil, power, death, water
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