Reply to "Poems of Boris Pasternak"

Fairy Tale
by Boris Pasternak


In a land far away
And in days long ago
Over stubble and steppe
Rode a warrior bold.

From afar he espied
Through the dust of the plain
A dark forest rise up,
But he rode on a-main.

Uneasy feelings
Gnawed at his heart:
"Beware of the water!
Tighten your girth!"

But no heed paid the horseman
And spurred on his mount,
And he galloped full tilt
To the wood on the mound.

With a turn at the barrow
He rode into the vale,
Crossed over the hill
And skirted the glade.

Then into a hollow
With wild animal trail,
Down a path through the wood
To a watering place,

And paying the voice
Of his instinct no heed,
He rode down the ravine
To water his steed.

* * *
Fording the stream,
The knight came to a cave
Whose entrance was lit
By a sulfurous flame,

His vision was clouded
By thick crimson smoke,
But a call of appeal
Rang out through the grove.

The knight gave a start
And spurred on his horse
And rode down the gorge
To answer that voice.

At the sight he beheld
He clenched firmly his lance:
The head and tail of a dragon
With scale-covered flanks.

The flames from its maw
Cast a glow all around,
And round a fair damsel
Its coils had been wound.

And over the shoulder
Of the hapless fair maid,
Like the thong of a whip,
The dragon's neck swayed.

By local tradition
In form of a ransom
Fair girls were delivered
To the lair of the monster.
By paying this tribute
The folk of the region,
While living in hovels,
Could purchase their freedom.

And as it tormented
Its newly won victim,
Round her arm and her throat
The snake slithered and twisted.

In prayer to the heavens
The knight raised his glance
And for the battle
Made ready his lance.

* * *
Eyelids tight closed,
Fords, rivers and streams,
Cloudy height of the heavens,
And ages and years…

The knight fell from the saddle,
Losing his helmet.
With its hooves his proud steed
Meanwhile trampled the serpent.

Then both horse and dragon
Fell dead on the sand:
The rider lay swooning,
The damsel in trance.

Bathed in blue light
Was the vault of the heaven.
Who was she? Tsar's daughter?
Or princess? Or peasant?

Oh, excess of gladness!
Her eyes brimmed and wept,
Then she collapsed
In oblivion and slept.

The knight's strength returned
And then waned once again.
His pulse from such bloodshed
Scarce beat in his veins.

But their hearts were still pounding.
Now maiden, now warrior
Strove to wake up,
Then relapsed into slumber.

Eyelids tight closed,
Fords, rivers and streams.
Cloudy height of the heavens,
And ages and years…