Afanasy Shenshin-Foeth (1820–1892)

CALM Nature’s idle spy, I follow

In joy her pathways; free and fond,

I watch the arrow-winged swift swallow

Who curves above the dusking pond.

It dashes forward, lightly skimming

The glassy surface, half in fear

Of alien clutching waters—dimming

The lightning wings before they veer.

And once again the same quick daring,

And once again the same dark stream….

Is not this flight our human faring?

Is not this urge our human dream?

Thus I, frail vessel, am forbidden

To take the foreign road, and dip

To scoop a drop; the ways are hidden

Of alien streams I may not sip.