My Soul, My Prophetic Pain

My soul, my prophetic pain!
My heart, forever filled with bother,
O how throb you on a border,
Of two realities, in vain!...

You are a realm of my two worlds,
Your day is fervid and pathetic,
Your sleep unclear and prophetic,
Like scripture of the spirit's thoughts...

And let my breast is in a fit
Of passion, fatal one and scary,
My heart is ready, like saint Mary,
To cling forever to Christ's feet.

Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets. is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.