Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet

(5 December 1820 - 3 December 1892 / Novosyolky)

When You Were Reading Those Tormented Lines


When you were reading those tormented lines
In which the heart's resonant flame sends out glowing streams
And passion's fatal torrents rear up,-
Didn't you recall a single thing?

I can't believe it! That night on the steppe
When, in the midnight mist a premature dawn,
Transparent, lovely as a miracle,
Broke in the distance before you

And your unwilling eye was to this beauty drawn
To that majestic glow beyond the realm of darkness,-
How could it be that nothing whispered to you then:
A man has perished in that fire!

Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004

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