Goblins Of The Steppes
Stormy clouds delirious straying,
Showers of whirling snowflakes white,
And the pallid moonbeams waning--Sad the heavens, sad the night!
Further speeds the sledge, and further,
Loud the sleighbell's melody,
Grewsome, frightful 'tis becoming,'Mid these snow fields now to be!
Hasten! "That is useless,
Master,
Heavier for my team their load,
And my eyes with snow o'er
Can no longer see the road!
Lost all trace of our direction,
Sir, what now?
The goblins
Us already round in circles,
Pull the sledge with evil claw!
See!
One hops with frantic gesture,
In my face to grin and hiss,
See!
It goads the frenzied
Onward to the black abyss!
In the darkness, like a
One stands forth,--and now I
Him like walking-fire sparkling--Then the blackness,--woe is me!"Stormy clouds delirious straying,
Showers of snowflakes whirling white,
And the pallid moonbeams waning--Sad the heavens, sad the night!
Sudden halt the weary horses,
Silent too the sleighbells whirr--Look!
What crouches on the ground there?"Wolf,--or shrub,--I know not,
Sir."How the wind's brood rage and whimper!
Scenting, blow the triple team;
See!
One hops here!
Forward Driver!
How his eyes with evil gleam!
Scarce controllable the horses,
How the harness bells resound!
Look!
With what a sneering
Now the spirit band surround!
In an endless long procession,
Formless, countless of their
Circle us in flying
Like the leaves in Autumn wind.
Now in ghastly silence deathly,
Now with shrilling elfin cry--Is it some mad dance of bridal,
Or a death march passing by?
Stormy clouds delirious
Showers of snowflakes whirling white,
And the pallid moonbeams waning--Sad the heavens, sad the night!
Cloudward course the evil
In unceasing phantom bands,
And their moaning and
Grip my heart with icy hands!
Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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