The Angel
By Mikhail Lermontov
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click to hear me recite the original Russian
An angel flew forth through the sky under night
And sang a song soft as his flight,
And stars and the moon and the clouds in their throng
Paid heed to that heavenly song.
He sang of the bliss of the innocent shades
That dwell in the heavenly glades,
He sang of the Lord of All Things, all the while
His praise was untainted by guile.
He bore a young soul to the planet below,
To birthing and weeping and woe.
And in that young soul the deep sound of his song
Though wordless, spoke on and grew strong.
And long in the plaints of this earth did it pine
In yearning for something divine,
For tunes of mere humans could ever replace
The sound of the heavenly race.
By Mikhail Lermontov
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click to hear me recite the original Russian
An angel flew forth through the sky under night
And sang a song soft as his flight,
And stars and the moon and the clouds in their throng
Paid heed to that heavenly song.
He sang of the bliss of the innocent shades
That dwell in the heavenly glades,
He sang of the Lord of All Things, all the while
His praise was untainted by guile.
He bore a young soul to the planet below,
To birthing and weeping and woe.
And in that young soul the deep sound of his song
Though wordless, spoke on and grew strong.
And long in the plaints of this earth did it pine
In yearning for something divine,
For tunes of mere humans could ever replace
The sound of the heavenly race.
L’angelo
Un angelo volò via attraverso i cieli sotto
la notte
e cantò un canto soffice come il suo volo,
e nelle loro gole le stelle la luna le nubi
prestarono attenzione a quel canto celeste.
Cantava la beatitudine di ombre innocenti
che dimorano nelle radure del cielo,
cantava del Signore di Tutte le Cose, tutto
il tempo
la sua lode era intatta da macchia.
Portava una giovane anima al pianeta laggiù,
a nascita pianto e dolore.
E in quella giovane anima il suono profondo
del canto
pur senza parole parlava e cresceva forte.
E a lungo nel compianto di questa terra versò
lamento
nelle agonie per un chè di divino,
che potessero mai far le veci i toni di
semplici umani
di suoni delle celesti speci.
