Mikhail Lermontov
The Prophet

E’er since eternal judge gave me
A prophet’s proud omniscient manner,
In people’s eyes I’m wont to see
The wicked sway of vice’s banner.

When I began to tell of love
And truth in all its purest teaching:
My fellows in a pressing shove
Stoned me, in spite of all beseeching.

And then with ash I dabbed my head,
And penniless I fled their places,
And in the desert, having fled,
Like birds, was fed by heaven’s graces;

Eternal covenant I keep,
I am obeyed by all creation;
Their dancing rays in joyous leap,
The stars hear me in their migration.

And when I thread my hurried way
Assailed by noisy hail’s mad clatter,
The smiling elders, proud and grey,
Engage the children with their chatter:

«Behold: for here’s a case for you!
This man was haughty and abrasive:
And though he spoke divinely too,
His foolish words were not persuasive.

Behold, then, children, see him there:
He’s gloomy, skeletal and pallid!
Behold, how poor he is and naked,
How all cast on him hateful stare!»

Translated by Rupert Moreton