In noon’s heat, in a dale of Dagestan
With lead inside my breast, stirless I lay;
The deep wound still smoked on; my blood
Kept trickling drop by drop away.
On the dale’s sand alone I lay. The cliffs
Crowded around in ledges steep,
And the sun scorched their tawny tops
And scorched me – but I slept death’s sleep.
And in a dream I saw an evening feast
That in my native land with bright lights shone;
Among young women crowned with flowers,
A merry talk concerning me went on.
But in the merry talk not joining,
One of them sat there lost in thought,
And in a melancholy dream
Her young soul was immersed – God knows by what.
And of a dale in Dagestan she dreamt;
In that dale lay the corpse of one she knew;
Within his breast a smoking wound showed black,
And blood ran in a stream that colder grew.
(Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov)
More Poetry from Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov:
Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov Poems based on Topics: Mind, Soul, Dreams, Sleep, Thought & Thinking, Smoking, Flowers- The Poet's Dead (Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov Poems)
- The Dispute (Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov Poems)
- The Gift Of The Terek (Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov Poems)
- On The Death Of Pushkin (Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov Poems)
- Meditation (Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov Poems)
- Tamara (Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov Poems)