Alexander Pushkin

Save Me From Madness, God

Save me from madness, God, I beg. No, I prefer the beggar's bag, Prefer to starve and toil. And not as if I praise my head, And not as if I were not glad To part with mind at all. If I were left alone and free, Oh, how fast I then would flee To wildness, thick and dim! I would sing songs in flaming fits And lose myself in fumes and bits Of mixed and lovely dreams. And I would listen to the sea, And, full of happiness, would see The heavens' empty flesh; And then I would be strong and free Like whirl that could dig up a lea And leave a forest smashed. Alas! The man whose mind is lost, Would be as awful as a curse, And very soon be locked, They'd put the fool in chains in rage, And, as a wild beast, through the cage They would you tease and mock. And in the night I would attend Not to the nightingale's clarinet, And hum of woods and plains - But to the cries of my inmates, And oaths of the jailers-rats, And squeak and ring of chains. Translated by Yevgeny Bonver

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