The Demon / Демон. Книга для чтения на английском языке

The reins lie slack in useless hands,

The feet are deep-thrust in the stirrups,

And on his saddle-cloth the bands

Of blood are broadening as they gallop

Ah gallant steed, your wounded master

You bore from battle swift as light

The ill-starred bullet sped yet faster

And overtook him in the night!

XIV

Gudaal's is now a house of mourning,

The people crowd into the court:

Whose horse comes galloping in terror

To fall before the rock-hewn gate?

The lifeless rider, who is he?

The battle fury on his face

Has left a deep inscribed trace

On coat and weapons they could see

Fresh bloodstains, and a wiry strand

Of mane was twisted in his hand,

Not long you waited, youthful bride,

And looked to see your bridegroom come:

Alas, though he has gained your side

To join the feasting at your home

His princely word he keeps in vain…

Never will he mount horse again.

XV

Like thunder, the Lord's judgement broke

About this unsuspecting house!

Tamara, sobbing on her couch,

Gives free rein to the heavy tears

Till, shaken, she on them must choke…

Then, suddenly, it seems she hears

Above her words of wonder spoke:

В«Weep not, my child! Weep not in vain!

Those tears are no life-giving rain

To call an unresponsive corpse

Back to the living world again.

They only serve to dull their source

In those clear eyes, those cheeks to burn…

And he is far and will not learn

Of all your bitter sorrow now;

The winds of heaven now caress

His high, angelic brow;

And heavenly music, heavenly light…

What are the dreams and dark duress,

The little hopes and stifled sighs

Of earthly maidens in the sight

Of one who dwells in paradise?

Ah no, the lot of mortal man,

Believe, my earthly angel dear,

It merits not one second's span

Your precious sorrow here.

On the wastes of airy ocean

Rudderless and stripped of sail

Through the mists in listless motion

Stars in courses never fail;

Through the boundless fields of heaven

Traceless pass the fluffy sheep —

Clouds dissolving in the even

Reaches of the azure steppe.

Hour of parting, hour of meeting,

Brings them neither joy nor sorrow;

Nor regrets for past fast fleeting;

Nor desires for any morrow.