Prophet - Pushkin

Tormented by spiritual thirst,
In the desert, I eked out a grim, —
And six-winged seraph
I was at a crossroads.
Fingers light as sleep
He touched the apple of my.
Were opened prophetic apple,
Like a frightened eagle.
He touched my ears, —
And they filled the noise and ringing:
And I listened to the sky shudder,
And mountain flight of angels,
And reptile sea submerged speed.
And sub vines stagnation.
And he clung to my lips,
And I tore my sinful tongue,
And prazdnoslovny, and wicked,
And the sting of the serpent mudryya
In my mouth stilled
I put the right hand of blood.
And he cut my chest with the sword,
And the heart quivering took
And UHL, flaming fire,
In the chest hole vodvinul.
Like a corpse in the desert I lay,
And the voice of God when me vozzval:
"Arise, prophet, and vizhdy, and hearken,
Be filled with the will of my,
AND, bypassing the sea and land,
Verb burn the hearts of people ".

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Anna Akhmatova
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