My Sister Life and The Zhivago Poems

Fairy Tale

✦ 129 ✦ Fairy Tale A long long time ago, In some far fabled land, A noble horseman rode Over the burning sand. Eager to make his name, The knight to battle sped, Beyond the dusty plain Dense forest loomed ahead. Into his heart a trace Of grim foreboding stole: “Look to your saddle brace, Beware the water hole.” But he ignored the warning And with a mighty will He urged his stallion forward And up a wooded hill. He passed a mound and rode Into a dried-up creek, Skirted a glade and strode Over a mountain peak, And came upon a hollow Where some great beast had strayed, Leaving a trail to follow Down to a brook’s cascade. ✦ 130 ✦ And deaf to danger’s scent, He hardly paused to think, As down the bank he went To lead his horse to drink. * Across a shallow ford A gaping cavern lay, Where flames of sulphur soared And lit the entryway. The clouds of crimson smoke Concealed the distant scene, As all the woodland woke Upon a chilling scream. And, answering the cry, The startled horseman sped, Urging his horse to fly, Into the void ahead. The knight in terror spied A dragon’s fearsome glance, Its lashing tail and hide, And firmly gripped his lance. It bellowed flames of hate That scattered sparks of light, As round a helpless maid It wound its body thrice. ✦ 131 ✦ And with a whiplike flail The dreadful serpent pressed His slimy coiling tail About the maiden’s breast. The custom of that land Since ancient times had paid The monster on demand A lovely captive maid. The local people groveled And paid this price of death To spare their wretched hovels The dragon’s scorching breath. And having now his prize, The beast began to gloat And wrapped his scaly thighs Around her arms and throat. The rider cast his glance To heaven for its aid And with his leveled lance Gave battle for the maid. * Unopened eyes. And nights. The passing clouds. The tears. The waters. Rivers. Heights. The centuries and years. ✦ 132 ✦ Unhorsed, the rider stumbles, His heavy helmet crushed; His faithful charger tumbles The dragon in the dust. Upon the bloody sand Both steed and serpent lie; The horseman cannot stand, The maid is faint nearby. The vault of heaven glistens, The azure shines serene. Who is she, though? A princess? A peasant girl? A queen? Their rapture is so vast That they can only weep, Until they find at last Oblivion in sleep. At times he seems to waken, But then again is spent; His loss of blood has taken Its toll upon his strength. But both their hearts still beat, And he and she still strive To rouse themselves from sleep, But down to dreams they dive. Unopened eyes. And nights. The passing clouds. The tears. The waters. Rivers. Heights. The centuries and years. ...