RUSSIAN 67: DOSTOEVSKY AND GOGOL

Poem by Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov (1821-77)
Translated by Archibald Carey Coolidge (with some editing in the last two lines). The poem is cited in Notes from Underground

 

When from thine error, dark, degrading,
With words of fiery persuading,
I drew thy fallen spirit out;
And thou, thy hands in anguish wringing,
Didst curse, filled with a torment stinging,
The sin that compassed thee about;
When thou, thy conscience dilatory
Chastising with the memory's shame,
Didst there unfold to me the story
Of that which was before I came;
And sudden with thy two hands shielding
In loathing and dismay thy face,
To floods of tears I saw thee yielding,
O'erwhelmed, yea prostrate with disgraceÑ
Trust me! Thy tale did not importune;
I caught each word and tired not.
I understood, child of misfortune!
I pardoned all, and all forgot.
Why is it then, a secret doubting
Still preys upon thee every hour?
The world's opinion, thoughtless flouting,
Holds even thee too in its power?
Heed not the world, its lies dissembling,
Henceforth from all thy doubts be free;
Nor let thy soul, unduly trembling,
Still harbor thoughts that torture thee.
By grieving fruitlessly and vainly
Warm not the serpents in thy breast,
Into my house come bold and free,
Its rightful mistress there to be.

Last modified: Jan 25, 2001