Mikhail Lermontov: 2 Poems
.jpg)
Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov
(Михаи́л Ю́рьевич Ле́рмонтов 1814 – 1841)
No, not on you my passion’s bent
1
No, not on you my passion’s bent
And not for me your beauty’s splendour;
In you I love what I remember
Of sorrow past and youth misspent.
2
And sometimes when I look at you and seek
With steadfast gaze to penetrate your heart
In occult colloquies I bear my part -
But it is with another that I speak.
3
I speak then with that long-lost love of mine,
Seek other features in your features’ stead
And, in your living lips, see lips long dead,
And see your eyes with burnt-out ardours shine.
Not Byron – of a different kind
Not Byron – of a different kind
Chosen of fate, yet still unknown,
Outcast as he and driven from home
Yet Russian I – in heat and mind.
Earlier begun and earlier done
But slight will my achievement be…
And wrecked hopes lie like sunken suns
In my suol’s depths as in the sea.
Who, gloomy ocean depth has told
Your tale of mysteries? And who – if anyone
My thoughts can to the mob unfold?
Why – I myself, or God, or none.
.jpg)
Mikhail Lermontov poetry
kempis poetry magazine
kempis | 4:00 pm | July 25, 2010 | Lermontov, Mikhail