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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Abraham Yarmolinsky, trans.

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Saint Sebastian

Abraham Yarmolinsky, trans.

Translated in the original metre from the Russian of Valery Bryusov

ON slow and smoky fire thou burn’st and art consumèd,

O thou, my soul!

On slow and smoky fire thou burn’st and art consumèd,

With hidden dole.

Thou droopest like Sebastian, pierced with pointed arrows,

Harassed and spent.

Thou droopest like Sebastian, pierced with pointed arrows,

Thy flesh all rent.

Thy foes encircle thee and watch with gleeful laughter

And bended bow.

Thy foes encircle thee and watch with gleeful laughter

Thy torments slow.

The embers burn, and gentle is the arrow’s stinging

’Neath the evening sky.

The embers burn, and gentle is the arrow’s stinging

When the end draws nigh.

Why hastens not thy dream unto thy lips now pallid

With deadly drouth?

Why hastens not thy dream unto thy lips now pallid

To kiss thy mouth?