 | The Drowned Man |  |
106
THE DROWNED MAN.1
BY ALEXANDER PUSHKIN.
HOME the children hasten, crying
To their father at the door:
"Tiatia!2 here's a dead man, lying
In our nets upon the shore."
To their father at the door:
"Tiatia!2 here's a dead man, lying
In our nets upon the shore."
"Dead man? Nonsense!" father answers.
"Why will children babble so?
Get you gone, you young romancers—
No more tales, I warn you. Go!
"Why will children babble so?
Get you gone, you young romancers—
No more tales, I warn you. Go!
"If such secrets I discover,
Then the court will question me—
Such a trial's never over;
Yet,—my coat, wife. I must see.
Then the court will question me—
Such a trial's never over;
Yet,—my coat, wife. I must see.
"Where, then, is the corpse?" "Here, father."
Where the dripping nets are spread,
In a silent group they gather,
Gazing on the unknown dead.
Where the dripping nets are spread,
In a silent group they gather,
Gazing on the unknown dead.
'Tis a sight to make them tremble,
That cold face of ghastly hue;
Naught of life does it resemble,
With its parted lips of blue.
That cold face of ghastly hue;
Naught of life does it resemble,
With its parted lips of blue.
Was it one whom sin had saddened?
Some lost fisher of the main?
One whom drink had dulled or maddened?
Some rich merchant, robbed and slain?
Some lost fisher of the main?
One whom drink had dulled or maddened?
Some rich merchant, robbed and slain?
Little knowing, little caring,
Quick the moujik glances round,
Seizes then the body, bearing
To the tide again its drowned.
Quick the moujik glances round,
Seizes then the body, bearing
To the tide again its drowned.
To the swiftest current guided,
Pushed from that unwilling shore,
Grave and cross still unprovided,
Swims the wandering dead once more.
Pushed from that unwilling shore,
Grave and cross still unprovided,
Swims the wandering dead once more.
Wilder waters reached, and deeper,
On the waves the body lay,
Tossing like a troubled sleeper,
As the moujik turned away.
On the waves the body lay,
Tossing like a troubled sleeper,
As the moujik turned away.
Full of storms the night descended.
Mother, children, calmly slept;
But the father, unattended
By repose, long vigil kept.
Mother, children, calmly slept;
But the father, unattended
By repose, long vigil kept.
Then he heard the casement shaking—
"Who dares ask for shelter here,
At my window, all awaking?"
And he opened, half in fear.
"Who dares ask for shelter here,
At my window, all awaking?"
And he opened, half in fear.
Through the rifted black clouds slipping,
Shone the moon; there, in its beams,
Stood the drowned man, wide-eyed, dripping—
Down his beard ran little streams.
Shone the moon; there, in its beams,
Stood the drowned man, wide-eyed, dripping—
Down his beard ran little streams.
As one threatens, or beseeches,
So his two arms forth he flung.
Shell-fish black, and loathsome leeches,
Round his swollen body hung.
So his two arms forth he flung.
Shell-fish black, and loathsome leeches,
Round his swollen body hung.
Quick the peasant slammed the shutter,
As he recognized his guest,
"May you burst!" he tried to mutter,
Then lay down—but not to rest.
As he recognized his guest,
"May you burst!" he tried to mutter,
Then lay down—but not to rest.
All night long he saw it plainly,
That dread specter, stern as fate—
Heard the drowned man rapping vainly
At the window or the gate.
That dread specter, stern as fate—
Heard the drowned man rapping vainly
At the window or the gate.
Now in whispers 'tis related,
How one night in every year
Sees that peasant, evil-fated,
Haunted with a ghostly fear;
How one night in every year
Sees that peasant, evil-fated,
Haunted with a ghostly fear;
How the wildest winds are rocking
Ever on that fatal date,
As the drowned man still stands knocking
At the window and the gate.
Ever on that fatal date,
As the drowned man still stands knocking
At the window and the gate.
| The Drowned Man | |