Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet (5 December 1820 - 3 December 1892 / Novosyolky)
While Lounging In A Chair
While lounging in a chair, I looked up at the ceiling
Where, teasing my imagination,
A circle hangs above the quiet lamp,
And spins just like a ghostly shadow.
Within the flicker there's a trace of autumn sunset:
As if, above the rooftop and the garden,
Unable to fly off, afraid to land,
Dark flocks of blackbirds circle. . .
No, it's not wings I hear, but hooves at the front gate!
I hear the trembling hands . . .
How chill the pallor of a lovely face!
How bitter parting's whisper! . .
Lost and in silence, I survey the distant road
Beyond the dimming garden,-
While the impatient flock of blackbirds,
Unsheltered, circles still.
Comments about this poem (While Lounging In A Chair by Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet )
People who read Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet also read
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings