The call

Inspired by Mikhail Lermontov

The call

He, like an alien in this world,

Hears the words of a late poet,

Who says, with a cold sighing,

“What are you doing there yet?”

When he slumbers, and finally,

The weights of this world soften,

Blessed by dreams and fancies,

“Come on, poet, come even closer.”

Awaken, the horror of sunlight,

Of days, duties, and judgments,

He naively, as he was as a child,

“What else shall I encounter?”

Nothing, thus, he found,

Other than cold glances,

And the guide, a soul higher,

“Why aren’t you ours yet?"

Rev.