De Profundis by Fyodor Tyutchev

When again the earth shall return to chaos,

and all that men have wrought

be hidden beneath the waters –

the waters will again reflect the face of God.

 

by Фёдор Иванович Тютчев (Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev)

(1829)

translated by John Cournos


 

Fun Fact: Counted amongst the admirers of Tyutchev‘s works were Dostoevsky and Tolstoy along with Nekrasov and Fet then later Osip Mandelstam who, in a passage approved by Shalamov, believed that a Russian poet should not have copy of Tyutchev in his personal library – he should know all of Tyutchev off by heart.

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Billowing Dust by Afanasy Fet

Billowing dust

so far away.

On horse, on foot?

Hard to say…

 

There! Galloping

on a swift steed…

O far-flung friend,

remember me!

 

by Афанасий Афанасьевич Фет (Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet)

a.k.a. Шеншин (Shenshin)

(1843)

translated by Robert Chandler


 

I’m going to including this song for no clear reason…

It has nothing to do with the poem but it came to mind while reading it…

Spring by Afanasy Fet

I come again with greetings new,

to tell you day is well begun;

to say the leaves are fresh with dew

and dappled in the early sun;

 

to tell you how the forest stirs

in every branch of every brake,

and what an April thirst is hers,

with every whistling bird awake;

 

to say, as yesterday, once more,

with love as passionate and true,

my heart is ready as before

for serving happiness and you;

 

to tell how over every thing

delight is blowing on the air –

I know not yet what I shall sing;

I only know the song is there.

 

by Афанасий Афанасьевич Фет (Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet)

a.k.a. Шеншин (Shenshin)

(1843)

translated by Frances Cornford and Esther Polianowsky Salaman

By The Fireplace by Afanasy Fet

The embers fade. A lucid flame

flickers in the half-light,

like a butterfly’s azure wing

on a scarlet poppy.

 

A scattering of motley visions

soothes my tired eyes.

Faces I can’t quite distinguish

gaze from the grey ash.

 

Past happiness and sadness rise –

a friendly, tender pair;

the soul pretends it can get by

without all it held so dear.

 

by Афанасий Афанасьевич Фет (Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet)

(1856)

translated by Boris Dralyuk

September Rose by Afansy Fet

Her flushed lips parting tenderly

as she breathes in the morning frost,

how strangely this rose smiles

as the September day hurries past.

 

While blue tits flutter around branches

from which every leaf has now slipped,

how queenlike this rose now appears

with spring’s glow on her lips.

 

How boldly she clings to her hope

that, flying from this cold flower-bed,

she will be the last, intoxicated rose

to cling to the young mistress’s breast.

 

by Афанасий Афанасьевич Фет (Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet)

a.k.a. Шеншин (Shenshin)

(1890)

translated by Robert Chandler

Spring by Afanasy Fet

I come again with greetings new,

to tell you day is well begun;

to say the leaves are fresh with dew

and dappled in the early sun;

 

to tell you how the forest stirs

in every branch of every brake,

and what an April thirst is hers,

with every whistling bird awake;

 

to say, as yesterday, once more,

with love as passionate and true,

my heart is ready as before

for serving happiness and you;

 

to tell how over every thing

delight is blowing on the air –

I know not yet what I shall sing;

I only know the song is there.

 

by Афанасий Афанасьевич Фет (Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet)

(1843)

translated by Frances Cornford and Esther Polianowsky Salaman