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Notes

Published from “Poems by M. Lermontov”, St. Petersburg, 1840, pp. 121–159, where the poem was published for the first time. Poems (censorship omissions) are restored from the manuscript, part of which is an authorized copy, part of which is an autograph (title page, epigraph and some verses) - IRLI, op. 1, No. 13 (notebook XIII), pp. 1—14 vol.

On the cover of notebook XIII there is a note from Lermontov: “1839 August 5.” This marking is the basis for dating the poem. The date “1840” indicated in the 1840 edition of “Poems” is not exact. The differences between the text of the “Poems” of 1840 and the manuscript are insignificant: the title of the poem has been changed (the poem was originally entitled “Bary”) and several author’s amendments have been made.

The poem "Mtsyri" is connected with the earlier "Confession" (1829–1830) and "Boyar Orsha" (1835–1836). A number of poems were transferred from “Confession” to “Boyar Orsha”. On the other hand, many verses of “Boyar Orsha” were subsequently included in the text of “Mtsyri”. The verses of “Confession” and “Boyar Orsha” almost coincide; “Boyar of Orsha” and “Mtsyri”.

There is a story by P. A. Viskovatov about the origin of the idea for the poem, based on the testimony of A. P. Shan-Girey and A. A. Khastatov. The poet, wandering in 1837 along the old Georgian Military Road, “came across in Mtskheta... a lonely monk or, rather, an old monastery servant “Beri” in Georgian. The watchman was the last of the brethren of the abolished nearby monastery. Lermontov got into a conversation with him and learned from him that he was originally a highlander, captured as a child by General Ermolov during the expedition. The general took him with him and left the sick boy of the monastery brethren. This is where he grew up; For a long time I could not get used to the monastery, I was sad and tried to escape to the mountains. The consequence of one such attempt was a long illness that brought him to the brink of the grave. Having been cured, the savage calmed down and remained in the monastery, where he became especially attached to the old monk. The curious and lively story “Bary” made an impression on Lermontov... and so he decided to use what was suitable in “Confession” and “Boyar Orsha”, and transferred the entire action from Spain and then the Lithuanian border to Georgia. Now in the hero of the poem he could reflect the prowess of the unyielding free sons of the Caucasus, which he liked, and in the poem itself depict the beauty of Caucasian nature” (“Russian Starina”, 1887, No. 10, pp. 124–125).

In the literature about Lermontov, some inaccuracies were pointed out in Viskovatov’s given story (see: Irakli Andronikov. Lermontov. Publishing house “Soviet Writer”, M., 1951, pp. 150–154).

“Mtsyri” consists of 26 small chapters and is almost entirely a monologue of the hero.

At the beginning of the poem, Lermontov described the ancient Mtskheta Cathedral and the graves of the last Georgian kings Irakli II and George XII, under whom Georgia annexed to Russia in 1801.

- the battle of the hero with the leopard - is based on the motives of Georgian folk poetry, in particular the Khevsur song about a tiger and a youth, the theme of which is reflected in the poem “The Knight in the Skin of a Tiger” by Shota Rustaveli (see: Irakli Andronikov. Lermontov. Publishing house “Soviet” writer", M., 1951, pp. 144–150). There are 14 known versions of the ancient Georgian song “Young Man and the Tiger,” published by A. G. Shanidze (see: L. P. Semenov. Lermontov and the folklore of the Caucasus. Pyatigorsk, 1941, pp. 60–62).

The revolutionary democrats were close to the rebellious pathos of the poem “Mtsyri”. “What a fiery soul, what a mighty spirit, what a gigantic nature this Mtsyri has! This is our poet’s favorite ideal, this is the reflection in poetry of the shadow of his own personality. In everything that Mtsyri says, he breathes his own spirit, amazes him with his own power,” wrote V. G. Belinsky (Belinsky, vol. 6, p. 54).

According to N. P. Ogarev, Lermontov’s Mtsyri is “his clearest, or only ideal” (N. Ogarev. Preface to the collection “Russian Secret Literature of the 19th Century,” Part I, London, 1861, p. LXVI) .

Text of the book "Mtsyri"

Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov Mtsyri[1]1 Mtsyri in Georgian means “non-serving monk”, something like “novice”. (Lermontov's note)

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Tasting, I tasted little honey and now I’m dying.
1st Book of Kings.

1

A few years ago, Where the streams of Aragva and Kura, merging and making noise, embraced like two sisters, there was a monastery. From behind the mountain And now the pedestrian sees the pillars of the collapsed gate, and the towers, and the church vault; But the fragrant smoke of the censer is no longer smoking under it, You can’t hear the singing at the late hour of the monks praying for us. Now one gray-haired old man, a half-dead guardian of the ruins, forgotten by people and death, sweeps away the dust from the gravestones, whose inscription speaks of the glory of the past - and how depressed by his crown, such and such a king, in such and such a year, handed over his people. And God's grace descended on Georgia! - she has bloomed since then in the shade of her gardens, without fear of enemies, beyond friendly bayonets.

2

One day a Russian general was passing from the mountains to Tiflis; He was carrying a prisoner child. He fell ill and could not bear the labors of the long journey. He seemed to be about six years old; Like a chamois of the mountains, timid and wild, And weak and flexible, like a reed. But a painful illness in him then developed the mighty spirit of His fathers. Without complaints, he languished - not even a weak moan escaped from the children's lips, He rejected food with a sign, And died quietly, proudly. Out of pity, one monk looked upon the Sick, and he remained within the Guardian walls through friendly Art. But, alien to childish pleasures, At first he ran away from everyone, Wandered silently, alone, Sighing, he looked to the east, Wermented by an unclear longing For his native land. But then he got used to captivity, began to understand a foreign language, was baptized by the holy father, and, unfamiliar with the noisy light, already wanted to pronounce a monastic vow in the prime of his years, when suddenly one day he disappeared on an autumn night. The dark forest stretched across the mountains all around. For three days all searches for him were in vain, but then they found Him unconscious in the steppe and brought Him back to the monastery; He was terribly pale and thin and weak, as if he had suffered from long labor, illness or hunger. He did not answer the interrogation, and became noticeably lethargic every day; And his end was near. Then the monk came to him with admonition and prayer; And, having listened proudly, the sick man stood up, gathering the rest of his strength, and for a long time he spoke like this:

3

“You came here to listen to my confession, thank you. It's better to be in front of someone With words to lighten my chest; But I did no harm to people, And therefore my deeds are not of much use to you to know; Can you tell your soul? I lived little and lived in captivity. Such two lives in one, But only one full of anxiety, I would exchange if I could. I knew only one power of thought, One - but fiery passion: She lived in me like a worm, Gnawed my soul and burned it. She called my dreams From stuffy cells and prayers To that wonderful world of worries and battles, Where rocks hide in the clouds, Where people are free like eagles. I nurtured this passion in the darkness of the night with tears and longing; I now loudly acknowledge her before heaven and earth And I don’t ask for forgiveness.

4

"Old man! I heard many times that you saved me from death - Why? ... gloomy and lonely, A leaf torn off by a thunderstorm, I grew up in gloomy walls, A child at heart, a monk by fate. I couldn’t say the sacred words “father” and “mother” to anyone. Of course, you wanted, old man, for me to get out of the habit of these sweet names in the monastery. In vain: their sound was born With me. I saw others’ Fatherland, home, friends, relatives, But I didn’t find in myself Not only sweet souls - graves! Then, without wasting empty tears, I swore an oath in my soul: Although for a moment, someday Press my burning breast with longing to the chest of another, Though unfamiliar, but dear. Alas, now those dreams have perished in complete beauty, and I, as I lived, in a foreign land, will die a slave and an orphan.

5

“The grave does not frighten me: There, they say, suffering sleeps in cold, eternal silence; But I’m sorry to part with life. I am young, young... Did you know the wild dreams of youth? Either I didn’t know, or I forgot, How I hated and loved; How the heart beat faster At the sight of the sun and fields From a high corner tower, Where the air is fresh and where sometimes In a deep hole in the wall, A child of an unknown country, Snuggled up, a young dove Sits, frightened by a thunderstorm? Let the beautiful light now disgust you: you are weak, you are gray, and you have lost the habit of desires. What kind of need? You lived, old man! You have something in the world to forget, You lived - I could also live!

6

“Do you want to know what I saw when I was free? - Lush fields, Hills covered with a crown of Trees growing all around, Noisy with a fresh crowd, Like brothers in a circular dance. I saw piles of dark rocks, When a stream separated them, And I guessed their thoughts: It was given to me from above! Their stone arms have been stretched out in the air for a long time, And they long for meeting every moment; But the days fly by, the years fly by - They will never meet! I saw mountain ranges, whimsical as dreams, When at the hour of dawn They smoked like altars, Their heights in the blue sky, And cloud after cloud, Having left their secret lodging for the night, They ran towards the east - Like a white caravan of Migratory birds from distant lands! In the distance I saw through the fog, In the snow, burning like a diamond, The gray-haired, unshakable Caucasus; And it was easy for my heart, I don’t know why. A secret voice told me that I once lived there too, and the past became clearer, clearer in my memory.

7

“And I remembered my father’s house, our gorge, and the aul scattered around in the shadows; I heard the evening hum of herds running home and the distant barking of familiar dogs. I remembered dark-skinned old men, In the light of moonlit evenings, Opposite my father’s porch, Sitting with solemn faces; And the shine of the long sheathed daggers... and like a dream All this in a vague series suddenly ran before me. And my father? He appeared to me as if alive In his battle clothes, and I remembered the ringing of chain mail, and the shine of a gun, And the proud, unyielding gaze, And my young sisters... The rays of their sweet eyes And the sound of their songs and speeches Over my cradle... A stream ran into the gorge there, It was noisy, but not deep; To him, on the golden sand, I went to play at noon and watched the swallows with my eyes, When, before the rain, their wings touched the waves. And I remembered our peaceful home And in front of the evening fire Long stories about how people lived in the old days, When the world was even more magnificent.

8

“Do you want to know what I did when I was free? I lived - and my life, without these three blissful days, would have been sadder and gloomier than your powerless old age. A long time ago I decided to look at the distant fields, to find out whether the earth is beautiful, to find out whether we are born into this world for freedom or prison. And at the hour of the night, the terrible hour, When the thunderstorm frightened you, When, crowded at the altar, You lay prostrate on the ground, I ran away. Oh, I, like a brother, would be glad to embrace the storm! I watched the clouds with my eyes, I caught the lightning with my hand... Tell me, what among these walls could you give me in return for That short, but living friendship, Between a stormy heart and a thunderstorm?..

9

“I ran for a long time - where, where, I don’t know! not a single star illuminated the difficult path. It was fun for me to breathe into my exhausted chest the night freshness of those forests, and that’s all. I ran for many hours, and finally, tired, I lay down among the tall grasses; I listened: there was no chase. The storm has subsided. The pale light Stretched in a long strip Between the dark sky and the earth, And I could see, like a pattern, the teeth of distant mountains on it; I lay motionless and silent. Sometimes in the gorge a jackal screamed and cried like a child, and the snake, shining with smooth scales, slid between the stones; But fear did not squeeze my soul: I myself, like an animal, was alien to people and crawled and hid like a snake.

10

“Deep below me, a stream, intensified by a thunderstorm, was noisy, and its dull noise was like a hundred angry voices. Although without words, I could understand that conversation, A silent murmur, an eternal argument With a stubborn pile of stones. Sometimes it suddenly died down, sometimes it sounded louder in the silence; And so, in the foggy heights the birds began to sing, and the east became rich; the damp breeze stirred the sheets; The sleepy flowers died, And, like them, towards the day, I raised my head... I looked around; I don’t hide it: I became scared; I lay on the edge of the threatening abyss, where the angry shaft howled and whirled; Steps of rocks led there; But only an evil spirit walked over them, When, cast down from heaven, it disappeared into an underground abyss.

11

“God’s garden was blooming all around me; The rainbow attire of plants kept traces of heavenly tears, And the curls of the vines curled, showing off among the trees with the transparent greenery of leaves; And the clusters full of them, Earrings like expensive ones, hung magnificently, and sometimes a timid swarm of birds flew towards them. And again I fell to the ground, And again I began to listen to the magical, strange voices; They whispered through the bushes, As if they were talking about the secrets of heaven and earth; And all nature's voices merged here; In the solemn hour of praise only the proud voice of a man was not heard. Everything that I felt then, Those thoughts - they no longer have a trace; But I would like to tell them, So that I can live, at least mentally, again. That morning the firmament was so pure that a diligent eye could have followed the flight of an angel; It was so transparently deep, So full of even blue! I drowned in it with my eyes and soul, until the midday heat dispersed My dreams, And I began to languish with thirst.

12

“Then I began to descend to the stream from a height, holding on to flexible bushes, from slab to slab as best I could. From under one's feet the stone would sometimes roll down - behind it the rein would smoke, the ashes would curl up in a column; Humming and jumping, then He was swallowed up by a wave; And I hung above the depths, But free youth is strong, And death seemed not scary! As soon as I Descended from the steep heights, the freshness of the mountain waters blew towards me, And I greedily fell into the wave. Suddenly a voice - a light noise of footsteps... Instantly hiding among the bushes, I was enveloped in involuntary trepidation, I raised my fearful gaze, and began to listen greedily. And closer, closer, the young Georgian voice sounded, So artlessly alive, So sweetly free, as if he was accustomed to pronounce only the sounds of friendly names. It was a simple song, But it stuck in my mind, And as soon as darkness falls, the invisible spirit sings it to me.

13

“Holding the jug above her head, the Georgian woman walked along a narrow path to the shore. Sometimes She slid between the stones, Laughing at her awkwardness. And her outfit was poor; And she walked easily, throwing back her long veil. The summer heat covered her face and chest with a golden shadow; and the heat Breathed from her lips and cheeks. And the darkness of my eyes was so deep, So full of the secrets of love, That my ardent thoughts were Confused. I only remember the sound of the jug, when the stream poured slowly into it, and the rustling... nothing else. When I woke up again And the blood drained from my heart, She was already far away; And she walked even more quietly, but easily, Slender under her burden, Like a poplar, the king of her fields! Not far away, in the cool darkness, Two saklas seemed to be rooted to the rock as a friendly couple; Blue smoke streamed over the flat roof of one. It’s as if I see now, How the door quietly opened... And closed again!.. You, I know, cannot understand My melancholy, my sadness; And if I could, I would be sorry: The memories of those minutes are within me, let them die with me.

14

“Exhausted by the labors of the night, I lay down in the shadows. A joyful dream I involuntarily closed my eyes... And again in my dream I saw the image of a young Georgian woman. And with a strange, sweet longing, my chest began to ache again. I struggled to breathe for a long time - and woke up. Already the moon was shining above, and only one cloud was creeping after her, As if for its prey, Opening its greedy arms. The world was dark and silent; Only the silvery fringe of the tops of the snowy chain in the distance sparkled before me, and the stream splashed into the banks. In the familiar hut the light flickered and then went out again: In the heavens at the midnight hour So a bright star goes out! I wanted to... but I didn’t dare go up there. I had one goal, To go to my native country, I had in my soul, and I overcame the suffering of hunger as best I could. And so he set off along the straight road, timid and dumb. But soon, in the depths of the forest, I lost sight of the mountains, and then I began to lose my way.

15

“In vain, in rage, at times, I tore with a desperate hand the thorns, tangled with ivy: The whole forest was, the eternal forest all around, More terrible and denser every hour; And with a million black eyes the darkness watched the night through the branches of every bush... My head was spinning; I began to climb trees; But even at the edge of heaven there was still the same jagged forest. Then I fell to the ground; And he sobbed in a frenzy, And gnawed at the damp breast of the earth, And tears, tears flowed into it like burning dew... But believe me, I didn’t want human help... I was a stranger to them forever, like a steppe beast; And if even a minute’s scream had changed me, I swear, old man, I would have torn out my weak tongue.

16

“Do you remember your childhood years: I never knew tears; But then I cried without shame. Who could see? Only a dark forest, and a moon floating among the skies! Illuminated by its ray, Covered with moss and sand, Surrounded by an impenetrable wall, there was a clearing in front of me. Suddenly a shadow flashed across it, and sparks flashed from two lights... and then some kind of animal jumped out of the thicket in one jump and lay down, playing on its back on the sand. It was the eternal guest of the desert - the Mighty Leopard. He gnawed at the raw bone and squealed merrily; Then he fixed his bloody gaze, wagging his tail affectionately, for a full month - and on it the wool shone with silver. I waited, grabbing the horned branch, for the minute of the battle; my heart suddenly ignited with a thirst for fight and blood... yes, the hand of fate led me in a different way... But now I am sure that I could have been in the land of my fathers, not one of the last daredevils.

17

"I was waiting. And then, in the shadows of the night, he sensed the Enemy, and a prolonged howl, pitiful, like a groan, suddenly rang out... and he began to dig the sand angrily with his paw, reared up, then lay down, and the first mad leap threatened me with a terrible death... But I warned him. My blow was true and quick. My reliable branch, like an ax, cut his wide forehead... He groaned like a man, and fell over. But again, Although the blood flowed from the wound in a thick, wide wave, the battle began to boil, a mortal battle!

18

“He threw himself on my chest; But I managed to stick it in his throat and turn my weapon twice... He howled, rushed with all his strength, and we, entwined like a pair of snakes, hugged tighter than two friends, fell at once, and in the darkness the battle continued on the ground. And I was terrible at that moment; Like a deserted leopard, angry and wild, I blazed and squealed like him; It’s as if I myself was born In a family of leopards and wolves Under the fresh canopy of forests. It seemed that I had forgotten the words of people - and in my chest that terrible cry was born, As if my tongue had not been accustomed to another sound since childhood... But my enemy began to grow exhausted, Thrash around, breathe more slowly, Squeezed me for the last time... The pupils of his motionless eyes They flashed menacingly - and then closed quietly in eternal sleep; But He met death face to face with the triumphant enemy, As a fighter should in battle!..

19

“You see on my chest Traces of deep claws; They have not yet become overgrown and closed; but the damp cover of the earth will refresh them, And death will heal forever. Then I forgot about them, And, again gathering the rest of my strength, I wandered into the depths of the forest... But in vain I argued with fate: She laughed at me!

20

“I came out of the forest. And then the day woke up, and the round dance of the parting luminaries disappeared in its rays. The misty forest has spoken. In the distance the village began to smoke. A vague hum ran through the valley with the wind... I sat down and began to listen; But it fell silent along with the breeze. And I cast my eyes around: That region seemed familiar to me. And I was scared, I couldn’t understand for a long time that I had returned to my prison again; That it was useless for so many days I caressed the secret plan, I endured, languished and suffered, And all for what?.. So that in the prime of life, Barely looking at God's light, With the sonorous murmur of the oak forests, Having learned the bliss of freedom, Carry with you to the grave Longing for the holy homeland , The hopes of the deceived are a reproach And your pity is a shame!.. Still immersed in doubt, I thought it was a terrible dream... Suddenly the distant ringing of a bell rang out again in the silence And then everything became clear to me... Oh! I recognized him immediately! He has more than once driven away visions of living dreams from children's eyes About dear neighbors and relatives, About the wild will of the steppes, About light, mad horses, About wonderful battles between the rocks, Where I alone defeated everyone!.. And I listened without tears, without strength . It seemed that the ringing was coming from my heart - as if someone was hitting my chest with an iron. And then I vaguely realized that I would never make a trail to my homeland.

21

“Yes, I deserve my lot! A mighty horse, a stranger in the steppe, having thrown off a bad rider, will find a straight and short path to his homeland from afar... What am I in front of him? In vain the chest is full of desire and longing: That is a powerless and empty heat, a game of dreams, a disease of the mind. The prison left its mark on me... Such is the Prison flower: it grew alone And it is pale between the damp slabs, And for a long time it did not bloom its young leaves, it kept waiting for the life-giving rays. And many days passed, and a kind hand touched the flower with sadness, And it was transferred to the garden, To the neighborhood of roses. The sweetness of life was breathing from all sides... But what? As soon as the dawn rose, a scorching ray burned it. A well-bred flower in prison...

22

“And what’s his name, the Fire of the merciless day burned me. In vain did I hide my tired head in the grass; Its withered leaf curled like a crown of thorns over my brow, and the earth itself breathed fire into my face. Flashing quickly in the heights, Sparks swirled; Steam streamed from the white rocks. The world of God slept in a dull stupor of despair in a heavy sleep. At least the corncrake cried, Or the live trill of a dragonfly was heard, or the baby talk of a stream... Only a snake, rustling like dry weeds, Sparkling with a yellow back, As if with a golden inscription, a blade covered to the bottom, Trading the crumbly sand, Slided carefully; then, Playing and basking on him, she curled into a triple ring; It was as if she had suddenly been burned, she was rushing about, jumping and hiding in the distant bushes...

23

“And everything in heaven was Light and quiet. Through the vapors, two mountains loomed black in the distance, Our monastery, from behind one, sparkled like a jagged wall. Below Aragva and Kura, entwined with a border of silver, The soles of fresh islands, Along the roots of whispering bushes They ran together and easily... I was far from them! I wanted to get up - everything was spinning in front of me with speed; I wanted to scream - my tongue was dry, soundless and motionless... I was dying. I was tormented by the death delirium. It seemed to me that I was lying on the damp bottom of the Deep River - and there was a mysterious darkness all around. And, I thirst for eternal singing, Like an ice cold stream Murmuring poured into my chest... And I was only afraid to fall asleep, It was so sweet, I loved it... And above me in the heights Wave pressed against wave, And the sun through the crystal of the wave Shined sweeter than the moon... And the fish motley herds sometimes played in the rays. And I remember one of them: She was more friendly than others and caressed me. Her back was covered with gold scales. She hovered above my head more than once, and the gaze of her green eyes was sadly tender and deep... And I could not be surprised: Her silver voice whispered strange words to me, and sang, and fell silent again. He said: “My child, Stay here with me: There is a free life in the water and cold and peace.

* * *

I will call my sisters: We will dance in a circle and cheer up the foggy gaze and your tired spirit.

* * *

Sleep, your bed is soft, your cover is transparent. Years will pass, centuries will pass, to the sound of wonderful dreams.

* * *

Oh my dear! I won’t hide that I love you, I love you like a free stream, I love you like my life...” And for a long, long time I listened; And it seemed that a sonorous stream merged its quiet murmur with the words of a golden fish. Here I forgot. God's light has faded in the eyes. Mad delirium gave way to the powerlessness of the body...

24

“So I was found and raised... You know the rest yourself. I'm done. Believe my words or don't believe me, I don't care. Only one thing saddens me: My corpse, cold and dumb, will not decay in my native land, And the story of my bitter torment will not call between the deaf walls the mournful attention of anyone to my dark name.

25

“Farewell, father... give me your hand; You feel that mine is on fire... Know that this flame has been melting in my chest since my youth; But now there is no food for him, And he burned through his prison And will return again to the One Who gives suffering and peace to everyone in a lawful sequence... But what does that matter to me? - let my spirit find shelter in paradise, in the holy, transcendental land... Alas! - in a few minutes Between the steep and dark rocks, Where I played as a child, I would exchange heaven and eternity...

26

“When I begin to die, And, believe me, you won’t have to wait long - You took me to our garden, to the place where two white acacia bushes bloomed... The grass between them is so thick, And the fresh air is so fragrant, And so transparently golden A leaf playing in the sun! They told me to put it there. I will drink in the radiance of a blue day for the last time. The Caucasus is visible from there! Perhaps from his heights he will send me farewell greetings, Send them with a cool breeze... And near me, before the end, a sound will be heard again, dear! And I will begin to think that a friend or a brother, bending over me, wiped the cold sweat from the face of death with an attentive hand, And that in a low voice He sings to me about a dear country... And with this thought I will fall asleep, And I will not curse anyone!

Notes

In the literature about Lermontov, some inaccuracies were pointed out in Viskovatov’s given story (see: Irakli Andronikov. Lermontov. Publishing house “Soviet Writer”, M., 1951, pp. 150–154).

“Mtsyri” consists of 26 small chapters and is almost entirely a monologue of the hero.

At the beginning of the poem, Lermontov described the ancient Mtskheta Cathedral and the graves of the last Georgian kings Irakli II and George XII, under whom Georgia annexed to Russia in 1801.

Mtsyri

22 “And, like him, the Fire of the merciless day burned me. In vain did I hide my tired head in the grass; Its withered leaf curled like a crown of thorns over my brow, and the earth itself breathed fire into my face. Flashing quickly in the heights, Sparks swirled; Steam streamed from the white rocks. The world of God slept in a dull stupor of despair in a heavy sleep. At least the corncrake cried, Or the live trill of a dragonfly was heard, or the baby talk of a stream... Only a snake, rustling like dry weeds, Sparkling with a yellow back, As if with a golden inscription, a blade covered to the bottom, Trading the crumbly sand, Slided carefully; then, Playing and basking on him, she curled into a triple ring; It was as if she had suddenly been burned, she was rushing about, jumping and hiding in the distant bushes...

23 “And everything in heaven was Light and quiet. Through the vapors, two mountains loomed black in the distance, Our monastery, from behind one, sparkled like a jagged wall. Below Aragva and Kura, entwined with a border of silver, The soles of fresh islands, Along the roots of whispering bushes They ran together and easily... I was far from them! I wanted to get up - everything was spinning in front of me with speed; I wanted to scream - my tongue was dry, soundless and motionless... I was dying. I was tormented by Death Delirium! It seemed to me that I was lying on the damp bottom of the Deep River - and there was a mysterious darkness all around. And, thirsting for eternal singing, Like an ice-cold stream, Murmuring, flowed into my chest... And I was only afraid to fall asleep, It was so sweet, I loved it... And above me in the heights Wave pressed against wave, And the sun through the crystal of the wave Shined sweeter than the moon... And motley flocks of fish sometimes played in the rays. And I remember one of them: She was more friendly than others and caressed me. Her back was covered with golden scales. She hovered above my head more than once, and the gaze of her green eyes was sadly tender and deep... And I could not be surprised: Her silver voice whispered strange words to me, and sang, and fell silent again.

He said: “My child, Stay here with me: There is a free life in the water and cold and peace.

* “I will call my sisters: We will dance in a circle and cheer up the foggy gaze and your tired spirit.

* “Sleep, your bed is soft, your cover is transparent. Years will pass, centuries will pass, to the sound of wonderful dreams.

* “Oh my dear! I won’t hide that I love you, I love you like a free stream, I love you like my life...”

And for a long, long time I listened; And it seemed that a sonorous stream merged its quiet murmur with the words of a golden fish. Here I forgot. God's light has faded in the eyes. Mad delirium gave way to the powerlessness of the body...

24 “So I was found and raised... You know the rest yourself. I'm done. Believe my words or don't believe me, I don't care. Only one thing saddens me: My corpse, cold and dumb, will not decay in my native land, And the story of my bitter torment will not call between the deaf walls the mournful attention of anyone to my dark name.

25 “Farewell, father... give me your hand; You feel that mine is on fire... Know that this flame, melting, lived in my chest from my youth; But now there is no food for him, And he burned through his prison And will return again to the One Who gives suffering and peace to everyone in a lawful sequence... But what does that matter to me? - let my spirit find shelter in paradise, in the holy, transcendental land... Alas! - in a few minutes Between the steep and dark rocks, Where I played as a child, I would exchange heaven and eternity...

All poems (contents in alphabetical order)

Pages: 6