Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov
In High Noon's Heat
In high noon's heat in a Caucasian valley
I lay quite still, a bullet in my breast;
The smoke still rose from my deep wound,
As drop by drop my blood flowed out.
I lay alone upon the valley's sand;
The mountain ledges closed in all around,
Sun burned their yellow peaks
It burned me, too-but deep as death I slept.
I dreamt I saw the shining lights
Of evening feasting in my homeland.
Young maids with flowers in their hair
Spoke gaily of me 'mongst themselves.
But one maid sat apart in thought
And did not enter gaily in,
Her youthful soul was caught it seemed,
Lord God knows how, in some sad dream:
She dreamt about a valley in the Caucasus;
She knew the corpse that lay upon the ground;
His breast was blackened by a smoking wound,
His cooling blood was flowing in a stream.
Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (In High Noon's Heat by Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov )
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Footsteps of Angels, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
- Farewell, Anne Brontë
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
- Heather Burns