The Prophecy

…from the quills of the dead white poets

Mikhail Lermontov (1814 – 1841)

lermontov

A year will come, the year of Russia, last,
When the monarchs’ crown will be cast;
Mob will forget its former love and faith,
And food of many will be blood and death;
When the cast off law will not guard
A guiltless woman and a feeble child;
when the plague on bodies, sick or dead,
Among the gloomy villages will spread,
To call from huts with pieces of a rag,
And dearth will maim this poor earth as plague;
And on the lakes will fateful glow lay:
A mighty man will come in this black day.
You will recognise this man and understand,
Why he will have the shining knife in hand:
And voe for you! – Your moans and appeals
He will consider just as funny things;
And all his image will be awful now.
As his black mantle and his lofty brow.

Translated from Russian by Yevgeny Bonver, 1966
Once again (see The Unwashed Russia) poor Mikhail wouldn’t have to change a word today.

About Paul Jacko

Jacko was born in Czechoslovakia not long before the communist putsch in February 1948. He studied industrial chemistry there and left in 1969 for Australia, where he became a lawyer and established his own practice. He has now retired and beside hunting, fishing, camping, prospecting and playing golf he amuses himself by writing.
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