Gavrila Derzhavin
On the Death of Prince Meshchersky

O word of time! metallic ring!
Your dreadful voice I find perplexing,
Your moaning calls me, tightens string,
And pulls me grave-wards with its flexing.
As soon as I saw light of day,
Already death with teeth was grinding,
Her scythe-like lightning all was finding
Her flaying cut me down like hay.

And not a creature can evade
Her talons’ lethal onwards rush:
Of king and serf a meal is made
By worms, and graves the spirit crush;
Time’s open mouth on glory feasts:
For glory waits time’s mouth agape
As briny’s waters’ rapid surges,
Eternity the hours urges;
For realms from death cannot escape.

We slide along the chasm’s edge
In which one day we’ll headlong tumble;
For life is held by mortal pledge,
From birth to death we can’t but stumble.
Death shows no mercy, purloins all:
And even stars by her are shattered,
And rays of sun are with them scattered,
Before her threat all worlds must fall.

For only mortal spares no thought
For death and thinks he’ll live for ever;
As by a thief, he finds he’s caught,
That death his vital cord must sever.
Alas! it’s when we’re least afraid
That happens quicker deathly plunder;
And even proud heights’ deafening thunder
Compared with her is seeming staid.

O son of languor, calm and bliss,
Oh where, Meshchersky, are you hiding?
You’ve crossed the bounds of life’s abyss,
On shore of death you are abiding;
Your dust is here; your soul is not.
Where is he? There? We can’t be certain.
We only weep behind life’s curtain:
“Oh woe to us, in this world’s plot!”

Where joy, delight and love did flood
Upon it all with healthy glitter,
In all our veins now freezes blood,
Our souls succumb to grieving bitter.
A coffin’s now where dishes were:
Where once assembled guests for dining
Can now be heard the gravestones’ whining,
Pale glance of death we can’t deter.

On all she looks — and even kings
In whom is vested small worlds’ power —
She gazes on the rich’s things,
Makes gold and silver ivory tower;
On beauty’s charms she casts her look,
On lofty minds she frowns, unsparing,
She strength unbridled sees, uncaring
And sharpens blade of threshing hook.

For death is nature’s awe and fear!
Our poverty’s combined with bluster;
Today a god, but dust is near:
Today beguiled by vain hope’s lustre,
But where are you tomorrow, man?
No sooner’s passed allotted hours
Than tremble they before dark powers,
And, dreamlike, ends your mortal span.

My youth already now has passed,
Like blissful dream and restful slumber;
And beauty’s spell now less is cast,
Delight astounding less does cumber,
I’m less detained by trivial mind,
No longer do I live contented,
Desire for rank has me tormented,
And glory tumult bids me find.

But thus will courage vanish too
And with it glory’s aspiration;
Wealth’s blandishments will pass from view,
And human passion’s wild elation
In turn will fade away, away.
Be gone, whatever’s left of pleasure —
Of transient faithlessness the measure:
Eternal threshold’s mine today.

Today, tomorrow, death will come,
Perfilev! Flee it we can never —
To grief and torment why succumb
That mortal could not live for ever?
From heaven fleeting gift is life;
So be at peace with all its chances
Let soul unsullied own its dances
And bless the gift of fateful strife.

Translated by Rupert Moreton