The Stranger poem – Aleksandr Blok poems | Poetry Monster

A poem by Alexander Block – Alexandre Block – Alexandr Blok – Александр Блок
(1880-1921)

The restaurants on hot spring evenings

Lie under a dense and savage air.

Foul drafts and hoots from dunken revelers

Contaminate the thoroughfare.

Above the dusty lanes of suburbia

Above the tedium of bungalows

A pretzel sign begilds a bakery

And children screech fortissimo.

And every evening beyond the barriers

Gentlemen of practiced wit and charm

Go strolling beside the drainage ditches —

A tilted derby and a lady at the arm.

The squeak of oarlocks comes over the lake water

A woman’s shriek assaults the ear

While above, in the sky, inured to everything,

The moon looks on with a mindless leer.

And every evening my one companion

Sits here, reflected in my glass.

Like me, he has drunk of bitter mysteries.

Like me, he is broken, dulled, downcast.

The sleepy lackeys stand beside tables

Waiting for the night to pass

And tipplers with the eyes of rabbits

Cry out: “In vino veritas!”

And every evening (or am I imagining?)

Exactly at the appointed time

A girl’s slim figure, silk raimented,

Glides past the window’s mist and grime.

And slowly passing throught the revelers,

Unaccompanied, always alone,

Exuding mists and secret fragrances,

She sits at the table that is her own.

Something ancient, something legendary

Surrounds her presence in the room,

Her narrow hand, her silk, her bracelets,

Her hat, the rings, the ostrich plume.

Entranced by her presence, near and enigmatic,

I gaze through the dark of her lowered veil

And I behold an enchanted shoreline

And enchanted distances, far and pale.

I am made a guardian of the higher mysteries,

Someone’s sun is entrusted to my control.

Tart wine has pierced the last convolution

of my labyrinthine soul.

And now the drooping plumes of ostriches

Asway in my brain droop slowly lower

And two eyes, limpid, blue, and fathomless

Are blooming on a distant shore.

Inside my soul a treasure is buried.

The key is mine and only mine.

How right you are, you drunken monster!

I know: the truth is in the wine.

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• The Gardener XXVIII: Your Questioning Eyes by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• The Gardener XXIV: Do Not Keep to Yourself by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
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• The Gardener XXI: Why Did He Choose by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• The Gardener XX: Day After Day He Comes by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• The Gardener XVI: Hands Cling to Eyes by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• The Gardener XLVIII: Free Me by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• The Gardener XLVI: You Left Me by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• The Gardener XLV: To the Guests by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• The Gardener XLIV: Reverend Sir, Forgive by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• The Gardener XLIII: No, My Friends by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• The Gardener XLII: O Mad, Superbly Drunk by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
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