The Prophet poem – Alexander Pushkin

A poem by Alexander Pushkin – Pouchkine, Pooshkin (1799-1837), in English translation

Longing for spiritual springs,

I dragged myself through desert sands …

An angel with three pairs of wings

Arrived to me at cross of lands;

With fingers so light and slim

He touched my eyes as in a dream:

And opened my prophetic eyes

Like eyes of eagle in surprise.

He touched my ears in movement, single,

And they were filled with noise and jingle:

I heard a shuddering of heavens,

And angels’ flight on azure heights

And creatures’ crawl in long sea nights,

And rustle of vines in distant valleys.

And he bent down to my chin,

And he tore off my tongue of sin,

In cheat and idle talks aroused,

And with his hand in bloody specks

He put the sting of wizard snakes

Into my deadly stoned mouth.

With his sharp sword he cleaved my breast,

And plucked my quivering heart out,

And coals flamed with God’s behest,

Into my gaping breast were ground.

Like dead I lay on desert sands,

And listened to the God’s commands:

‘Arise, O prophet, hark and see,

Be filled with utter My demands,

And, going over Land and Sea,

Burn with your Word the humane hearts.’

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Poems in English 

• Sonnet 94: They that have power to hurt and will do none by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 93: So shall I live, supposing thou art true by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 92: But do thy worst to steal thy self away by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 91: Some glory in their birth, some in their skill by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 90: Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 8: Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly? by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 89: Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 88: When thou shalt be disposed to set me light by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 87: Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 86: Was it the proud full sail of his great verse by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 85: My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 84: Who is it that says most, which can say more by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 83: I never saw that you did painting need by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 82: I grant thou wert not married to my Muse by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 81: Or I shall live your epitaph to make by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 80: O, how I faint when I of you do write by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 7: Lo, in the orient when the gracious light by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 79: Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 78: So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 77: Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare

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