Posted by: W. E. Poplaski | November 29, 2008


by Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov (1814 – 1841).


The Angel


At midnight an angel was crossing the sky,

And quietly he sang;

The moon and the stars and the concourse of clouds

Paid heed to his heavenly song.


He sang of the bliss of the innocent souls                                         5

In heavenly gardens above;

Of almighty God he sang out, and his praise

Was pure and sincere.


He bore in his arms a young soul

To our valley of sorrow and tears;                                                     10

The young soul remembered the heavenly song

So vivid and yet without words.


And long did it struggle on earth,

With wondrous desire imbued;

But none of the tedious songs of our earth                                    15

Could rival celestial song. 









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