Antiaris Poem by Emil Sharafutdinov

From Pushkin

Amidst a desert barren country
Upon the heated earth
Antiaris, like a menacing sentry,
Stands all alone in the whole universe.

The thirsty wasteland's scanty nature
Begot it on a day of wrath
And filled its branches' dead verdure
And roots with fluids venomous.

The poison trickles through its bark,
At midday melting in the sun,
And freezes, as it grows dark,
In transparent and viscid gum.

A bird flies not to it,
Nor comes a tiger — only a whirlwind harsh
The tree of death will hit
And on already putrid rush.

And if a wandering cloud sprinkles
The tree's rampant leaves,
The rain, already poisoned, trickles
Upon the scorching sand beneath.

But by a man a man was sent
To the antiaris on an errand,
And he obediently went,
And with the poison he returned.

Indeed, the deathly gum he brought
And faded leaves upon a bough,
And down perspiration poured
In cold streams from his pallid brow.

He brought — and weakened, and he sprawled
Upon a bast mat in a tent,
And there at the feet of the unconquerable lord
The poor slave met his end.

And with the poison thus obtained
The king imbued his loyal darts,
With which destruction then he sent
To neighbors into foreign parts.