Elisaveta Dmitrieva
The Crucifixion

A wreath woven of sharp thorns
Encircles your poor brow like a crown,
And from your eyes — dark shadows.
Before you, on my knees
I bow, as if at vesper’s sacrifice;
Onto my dress, drops of blood
Like garnets drip from your feet...

Still no one has yet guessed
Why my gaze is so troubled,
Why from Sunday mass
I’ve long since been returning last,
Why my lips tremble,
When the cloud of incense hovers
Like barely bluish lace.

Let the monks mutter curses,
Let hell fire await the sinners —
Before Easter, in spring, at the new moon
From a wizard known to me,
I bought the bitter stone of love — the astarote.¹
And today you will descend from the cross
At the hour preceding earth’s sunset.

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1. The poet may be referring to some sacred stone used in the worship of Astarte (Ashtoreth, Atargatis), the Phoenician goddess of fertility and sexual love, the West Semitic form of the goddess Ishtar. She was also regarded by the classical nations as a moon goddess (probably through confusion with another goddess), and in accordance with this view, which prevails in literary tradition, was identified with Selene and Artemis. More commonly, and with better reason, she was identified with Aphrodite.

Translated by Temira Pachmuss