Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev (5 December 1803 – 27 July 1873 / Ovstug)
There is an hour at night full of an awesome wonder,
When universal silence o'er the whole world lies
And when the cosmic chariot rolls, wakening no thunder,
Into the sanctuary of the skies.
The dark of chaos comes, land, sky and water merging;
Sleep Atlas-like treads earth, its weight like lead;
The gods with dreams prophetic fire the virgin
Soul of the Muse; all else is dead.
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