A.Pushkin, Prophet - Translation (Rus.) - Poem by Lyudmila Purgina
In desert barren I did rove
In search for power of spirit.
And suddenly on the crossroads
The six-winged Seraphim appeared.
With fingers lightly as a dream
He touched my closed eyes. As if
The eyes of scared eagless wide
Prophetic pupils glanced outside.
My ears then he touched, - a ring,
A rattle, a noise all space had filled:
And I accepted the heaven's shudder,
And angels flying high above me,
The creatures under water racing,
The green grapevine vegetating.
And then he nestled to my lips
And pulled out my tongue by tip,
So crafty, sin and chattering therein,
And then he load there a sting
Of a wise snake right into my lips,
All frozen, with his right hand,
The bloody hand, and cut my breast
With his sword, took out my heart,
Which trembled gently in his sight,
And there loaded a coal,
Flaring as a fire gold,
Into the hole of my breast.
As deadly corpse I lied in desert,
The Voice of Gods had then appealed:
'Stand up, the prophet, look and heed,
Take power of mine, proceed
To vast lands, oceans and seas.
Burn with a Word the hearts of people.'
In russian and some other translations
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