The Demon / Демон. Книга для чтения на английском языке

And, as the sweet, nocturnal cool

Over the thirsty earth came seeping,

Almost demented, she would fall

Before the sacred icon weeping;

And in the silence of the night

Her heavy sobbing would affright

The traveller upon his course;

В«A mountain spiritВ», he'd surmise

В«Bound in some cavern moaning lies!В»

And hustle on his weary horse…

VI

So, filled with longing and unease,

Tamara would sit long and gaze

Engrossed in lonely meditation

All day, and sigh with expectation

Beside her window, staring out…

That he would come she had no doubt,

Why else then were her dreams so clear?

Why else then used he to appear

With eyes so infinitely sad

And speech so marvellously tender?

For many days on end she had

Been strangely moved – she knew not why…

She called the good saints to defend her

But in her heart she called on him;

And always, when the day grew dim,

Weary with staring she would lie

Down on her bed and try to sleep:

The pillow burnt her flaming cheek

Fear stifled her, she gasped for breath,

Then, from her pallet she would leap

With heaving shoulders, fevered breast

Trembling, a mist before her sight,

Her arms outstretched to clasp the night,

The kisses melting on her lips…

…

…

VII

The Georgian hills were scarcely veiled

In the transparent dusk of evening

Before the Demon downward sailed

Through the grey twilight wreathing

For long and long, though powerfully

The convent seemed to draw him, he

Could not make up his mind to break

That hallowed peace… One moment more

And he was ready to forsake

His cruel intent.

He paced beneath the circling wall

Absorbed in thought. The shadowy leaves

Shook at his steps without a breeze

He raised his eyes: a quivering light

Throbbed from her window through the night.

So, she was waiting – and awake!

Through the soft silence all about

The chingar[6 - Chingar – a guitar.

And over them a song rang out

A song that poured mellifluousty

Like tears that fall in measure slow,

A song so tender that at times

It seemed as though in loftier climbs

It had been made for earth below.

Some angel, maybe, had descended

To seek a being he'd once befriended

To bring him secret consolation,

To ease his pain, past bliss recall.