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How did I almost miss that? I guess I was too eager to get into the thick of the book. A poem by Alexander Pushkin. He was a major influence on Dostoevsky as well as on Russian literature in general. I had never read anything by him, and I am stunned to see something so good. I’m wondering if he’s sort of a Russian Shakespeare. Joseph Frank opens his magnum opus with this piece titled “The Prophet.”
_ _ _
Pushed with the spirit’s thirst, I crossed
An endless desert sunk in gloom,
And a six-winged seraph came
Where the tracks met and I stood lost.
Fingers light as dream he laid
Upon my lids; I opened wide
My eagle eyes, and gazed around.
He laid his fingers on my ears
And they were filled with roaring sound;
I heard the music of the spheres,
The flight of angels through the skies,
The beasts that crept beneath the sea,
The heady uprush of the vine;
And, like a lover kissing me,
He rooted out this tongue of mine
Fluent in lies and vanity;
He tore my fainting lips apart
And, with his right hand steeped in blood,
He armed me with a serpent’s dart;
With his bright sword he split my breast;
My heart leapt to him with a bound;
A glowing living coal he pressed
Into the hollow of the wound.
There in the desert I lay dead.
And God called out to me and said:
"Rise, prophet, rise, and hear, and see,
And let my words be seen and heard
By all who turn aside from me.
And burn them with my fiery word.”
-- Alexander S. Pushkin, “The Prophet” (translated by D. M. Thomas)
_ _ _
Pushed with the spirit’s thirst, I crossed
An endless desert sunk in gloom,
And a six-winged seraph came
Where the tracks met and I stood lost.
Fingers light as dream he laid
Upon my lids; I opened wide
My eagle eyes, and gazed around.
He laid his fingers on my ears
And they were filled with roaring sound;
I heard the music of the spheres,
The flight of angels through the skies,
The beasts that crept beneath the sea,
The heady uprush of the vine;
And, like a lover kissing me,
He rooted out this tongue of mine
Fluent in lies and vanity;
He tore my fainting lips apart
And, with his right hand steeped in blood,
He armed me with a serpent’s dart;
With his bright sword he split my breast;
My heart leapt to him with a bound;
A glowing living coal he pressed
Into the hollow of the wound.
There in the desert I lay dead.
And God called out to me and said:
"Rise, prophet, rise, and hear, and see,
And let my words be seen and heard
By all who turn aside from me.
And burn them with my fiery word.”
-- Alexander S. Pushkin, “The Prophet” (translated by D. M. Thomas)
