Afanásy Fet (1820-1892)
‘When you read these anguished lines’
When you read these anguished lines
Where from heart’s roaring blaze the flames issue,
And passion’s fatal flood swells and climbs,
Do they speak never a word to you?
How to credit it! In the steppe, that night,
When through midnight ’s fog premature dawn,
Translucent, lovely, in miraculous light,
For you, out of the darkness, was born,
And beauty to unwilling eyes made plain,
Drawn to those glories that the darkness rive,
How can it be that nothing whispered then:
‘There a man was burned alive’?
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