Deeblog

Given the absence of Russian poetry the last few weeks, an appropriately named poem ("The Return") by this famous symbolist and translator.  You can read the original here.

From splendid feasts I bid farewell,                  
From maidens' dance, from sense unbound,       
And thither fled where darkness swelled,         
Where hate would reign on unrich ground.        

Alone I wandered wild and free,                          
And melted in the ancient gloom;                       
As cliffs called out and greeted me                 
And eagles in my nearness loomed.                         

My savage visions marked each day,        
Impressions that I still recall,                
As wingéd faces, joyous, fey,                
Beheld me from the ancient walls.           

And wilderness was home for years, 
As I obeyed my lonely dream.              
But then my voice repelled my fears,     
Words' sound and fury then redeemed.      

Anew was I in purple gear,                        
My locks were oiled in tranquil scent,      
And hardly had my pride appeared,          
When feasting voices me Tsardom lent!    

Among the queens in gleeful sway
I could but choose a single form:
Affection's air shall drift this way
With weaknesses of springtime's norm!

And you my valley rose, my sprite,
Just like a stem your closeness gleamed.
And I grew you to fable's height,
You in the flesh, you in my dream.  

But if in fatal moment's course                  
I heard my trumpet's last commands,       
I'd wake and send my answer forth,
And fall from your uneasy hands!