The Bakchesarian Fountain and Other Poems | Page 9

planets,
To thee there is
neither number nor measure!
Enlightened spirits, although

Proceeding from thy light,
Cannot penetrate thy judgments;

Thought scarce dare lift itself to thee;
It is lost in thy greatness,

Like the past moment in eternity.
Thou calledst chaos into existence,
Before time, from the abyss of
eternity,
And eternity, existing prior to all ages,
Thou foundedst
within thyself.
Constituting thyself of thyself,
By means of thyself
shining from thyself,
Thou art the light from which light first flowed;

Creating all things by a single word,
Extending thyself throughout
the new creation,
Thou wast, thou art, thou shalt be for ever!
Thou unitest within thyself the chain of beings,
Upholdest and
animatest it,
Thou connectest the end with the beginning,
And
through death bestowest life.
As sparks shoot forth and scatter
themselves,
Thus suns are born of thee:
As, in a cold and clear
winter's day,
Particles of frost scintillate,
Whirl about, reel, and
glisten,[1]
Even so do the stars in the abysses beneath thee!

Millions of lighted torches
Fly throughout infinite space,
They
execute thy laws,
And shed life-creating rays.
But these fiery
luminaries,
Or shining masses of crystal,
Or crowds of boiling
golden waves,
Or blazing ether,
Or all the dazzling worlds united--

Compared to thee are like night compared to day.
Like a drop of water cast into the ocean
Is this whole firmament
compared to thee.
But what is the universe which I behold,
And
who am I, in thy presence?
Were I to add to the millions of worlds

Existing in the ocean of air,
A hundred fold as many other
worlds--and then
Dare to compare them to thee,
They would
scarcely appear an atom,
And I compared to thee--nothing!
Nothing! yet thou shinest in me
Through thy great goodness:
In me
thou imagest thyself,
As the sun is reflected in a small drop of water.

Nothing! yet I am sensible of my existence,
By an indescribable
longing I ascend
Steadfastly to a higher region:
My soul hopes to be
even as thou,
It inquires, meditates, reasons;
I am, and doubtless
thou must be.
THOU ART! the order of nature proclaims it;
My heart declares it to
be so,
My mind assures me of it.
Thou art! and I am not, therefore,
nothing!
I am a particle of the whole universe,
Placed, as I think, in
that important
Middle point of being,
Where thou finishedst mortal
creatures,
Where thou began'st heavenly spirits,
And the chain of all
beings unitedst by me.
I am the bond of worlds existing everywhere;
I am the extreme grade
of matter;
I am the centre of living things,
The commencing trait of
the Divinity;

My body will resolve itself into ashes,
My mind
commands the thunder.
I am a king, a slave, a worm, a god!
But,
being thus wonderful,
From whence have I proceeded? This is
unknown.
But I could not have existed of myself!

I am thy work, Creator!
I am the creature of thy supreme wisdom,

Fountain of life, Giver of blessings,
Soul and monarch of my soul!

It was necessary to thy justice
That my immortal being
Should
traverse the abyss of death,
That my spirit should be veiled in
perishable matter,
And that through death I should return,
Father! to
thy immortality!
Inexplicable, incomprehensible Being!
I know that the imaginings

Of my soul are unable
Even to sketch thy shadow!
But, if it be our
duty to praise thee,
Then it is impossible for weak mortals

Otherwise to render thee homage
Than, simply, to lift their hearts to
thee,
To give way to boundless joy,
And shed tears of gratitude!
[1] The full beauty of this metaphor can only be felt by those who have
witnessed, in a high northern latitude during intensely cold and clear
weather, the state of the atmosphere which the poet describes.
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Other Poems, by Alexander Pushkin and other authors
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