Page:Poems, Alexander Pushkin, 1888.djvu/80

74 THE PROPHET.

by the thirst for the spirit

I was dragging myself in a sombre desert,

And a six-winged seraph appeared

Unto me on the parting of the roads.

With fingers as light as a dream

Mine eyes he touched:

And mine eyes opened wise

Like the eyes of a frightened eagle;

He touched mine ears,

And they filled with din and ringing.

And I heard the trembling of the heavens

And the flight of the angel's wings,

And the creeping of the polyps in the sea,

And the growth of the vine in the valley.

And he took hold of my lips,

And out he tore my sinful tongue

With its empty and false speech.

And the fang of the wise serpent

Between my terrified lips he placed

With bloody hand.