BORODINO.
HEY tell,
old man, had we a cause
When Moscow, razed by fire, once
was
Given up to Frenchman's
blow?
Old-timers talk about some frays,
And they remember well those days!
With cause all Russia fashions lays
About Borodino!
Yea, were there men when I was
young,
Whose songs your tribe is not to
've sung:
They'd fight,
you 're none as good!
An evil lot have they been drawn:
Few left the grounds to which they
had gone...
Had it not been God's will alone,
Old Moscow should
have stood!
Retreating this day and the next,
We wonder'd when 's our battle,
vext;
The veterans
talk'd upset:
"What then? we 're off to winter
dorms?
Go the commanders by new norms;
Daren't they rip foreign uniforms
On Russian bayonet?"
And then we had come upon a plain:
Here 's room to fight with might
and main!
There built we
a redoubt.
Our troops are curt on high alert!
Soon as sun's beams on cannon spurt,
And on the bluish wood-tops squirt
The Frenchmen
march right out.
I drove the shell in tight: well
isn't
It meet our guest receive a present!
Hold off, my
friend Moosue!
Who needs these games, why not begin;
Those left alive will wall you in,
If this be what it takes to win
Our motherland
from you!
Two-days'-worth pass'd in trading
shots.
Why give of that too many thoughts?
We waited third
day on.
Words started then to fly to the
ear:
"'Tis time we use the grape-shot,
hear!"
And now the field of carnage sheer
The pall of night
does don.
Then I dozed off beside our gun,
And not until the dawn, was done
The revel of
the French.
But quiet was our open camp:
His shako with a brush one 'd scamp,
Cross-hearted, would another tramp,
His sharpen'd
bayonet clench.
And once the sky lit from its border
Formations, gleaming, pass'd in
order,
With shouts all
took its berth.
Our colonel's mettle did you feel:
Czar's servant, soldiers' father
real...
Yea, 'tis a pity: slain by steel,
Now sleeps he
in black earth.
And eyes aflame, he spoke his mind:
"Hey lads! is Moscow not behind?
By Moscow then
we die
As have our brethren died before!"
And that we'll die we all then swore,
And th' oath of loyalty ne'er tore
Neath Borodinian
sky.
Some day it was! Through flying smoke
Set out in swarms many a French
bloke,
And e'er for
our redoubt.
The lancers in their motley guise,
Dragoons with horse-tails with loud
cries
They all would flash before our
eyes,
They all were
near about.
You 're never to behold such fights!..
The banners would fly by like sprites,
In smoke would
glimmer fire,
The blade would sound, the grape
would shriek,
The fighters' hand to thrust grow
weak,
And muzzles have no space to seek
O'er bloody heaps
e'er higher.
The foe that day had many ways
To feel what daring combat weighs,
Our Russian hand-to-hand!..
As did our chests earth's hollows
trembled;
The steeds, the men all disassembled,
And cannon volleys' sound resembled
A moaning o'er
the land...
Dusk fell. We all were ready to
Next morrow start the fight anew
And stand till
none were left...
Of drums we heard far off the rattle:
The pagans left the field of battle.
To count then we began the sad toll
Of wounds and
comrades reft.
Yea, were there men when I was young,
Bold tribe of whom shall songs be
sung:
They'd fight,
you 're none as good.
An evil lot have they been drawn:
Few left the grounds to which they
had gone.
Were 't not the will of God alone,
Old Moscow would
have stood!
______
DEATH OF THE POET.
WE
've lost the poet! Has the bondsman
Of honour fall'n by words defamed,
Unslaked the thirst of vengeance
on his man,
Droop'd his proud head, yet he untamed!..
Had not a poet's memory
The shame of petty wrongs forgot,
He challenged worldly tyranny,
Alone again... and he is shot!
He is shot!.. What sense in lamentations,
The empty praise from every room,
And prattling of justifications?
The Fates have carried out their
doom!
Before, was 't none but you who
bred
Such malice for his free, bold gift;
Was not for your amusement fed
The smouldering fire the moment
whiff'd?
You may rejoice... the final anguish
Was more than what he could sustain:
The torch is out, the wreath doth
languish,
The triumph over, genius slain.
The assassin has ta'en, indifferent,
His careful aim... there's no escape:
The empty heart can not be rent,
Can not the deed the face misshape.
Why marvel?.. from a land afar,
Like hundreds others, to importune
In the pursuit of ranks and fortune,
He is cast here by some wandering
star;
Did, laughing, saucily despise
Strange country's tongue and customs
he;
To spare our fame would he
agree,
Or at this bloody moment see
'Gainst what his hired hand did
rise?..
And he is shot
laid in his tomb,
As was, unknown
yet dear, that bard of whom
He with such
power sung each sweet strand,
Prey to the same
dull jealousy and gloom,
And smitten as was he, by an unpitying
hand.
Why left he quiet joys and simple-hearted
friends,
Why enter'd he this world which
stiflingly descends
On all true passions of a freedom-loving
heart?
Why open'd he his ardent soul to
slanderous rabble,
In earnest took the endearments
simply meant to dabble,
He, who had grasp'd
men's nature from the start?..
And when they had taken off his wreath
a blackthorn
crown,
Entwined with laurel, on his head
they did bestow:
But harshly did the
thorns drive down,
Though hidden, in the
glorious brow;
Not even his last moments have escaped
the singe
With the insidious whispers of the
mocking crowd,
And died he vainly
thirsting for revenge,
Vext secretly to see above his hopes
a cloud.
Thus muted are the
wondrous airs,
E'er silenced is the
heavenly peal:
The bard in sombre
darkness fares,
And on his lips is
prest a seal.
______
And ye, O haughty
progenies
Of fathers well renown'd for their
beginnings base;
Who having trodden down now slight
with servants' eyes
The débris of a wrong'd by
play of fortune race!
Ye, countless palace rats who at
the Throne do gnaw,
The bane of Liberty, of Genius,
and of Fame!
To you, under
the auspices of Law,
To silence Justice,
Truth 'twere all the same!..
But is there Justice of the Heavens,
corrupted lot!
Of its remittal
there's no chance;
The Judge awaits;
He can't be bought,
And all our thoughts and actions
knows He in advance.
Then will you vainly your maligning
gossip say:
It shan't avert
the fate you dread;
And not with all your sordid blood
you'll wash away
The poet's righteous
blood you 've shed!
____
Numerous references
to the poetry of Pushkin are made throughout this poem; see the Appendix
on a separate page.
______
THE SENSE OF SOME
SPEECHES.
THE sense of
some speeches
Is dark or is nought,
But in them beseeches
What cannot be fought.
How madly a heart
Will, to utter them, beat!
With tears must it part,
And with tremor must greet.
Inside will all shift
At their peregrine hail,
As though someone lift
From all sacred a veil.
Midst worldly discord
And where ever I be,
The shine of that word
With my heart I shall see;
Should stand I in prayer,
I should dash to their sound,
And war-trumpets' blare
Could not turn me around.
____
Three draughts are
extant of the original.
______
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