Alexander Pushkin — The Upas Tree

Deep in the desert's misery,

far in the fury of the sand,

there stands the awesome Upas Tree

lone watchman of a lifeless land.

The wilderness, a world of thirst,

in wrath engendered it and filled

its every root, every accursed

grey leafstalk with a sap that killed.

Dissolving in the midday sun

the poison oozes through its bark,

and freezing when the day is done

gleams thick and gem-like in the dark.

No bird flies near, no tiger creeps;

alone the whirlwind, wild and black,

assails the tree of death and sweeps

away with death upon its back.

And though some roving cloud may stain

with glancing drops those leaden leaves,

the dripping of a poisoned rain

is all the burning sand receives.

But man sent man with one proud look

towards the tree, and he was gone,

the humble one, and there he took

the poison and returned at dawn.

He brought the deadly gum; with it

he brought some leaves, a withered bough,

while rivulets of icy sweat

ran slowly down his livid brow.

He came, he fell upon a mat,

and reaping a poor slave's reward,

died near the painted hut where sat

his now unconquerable lord.

The king, he soaked his arrows true

in poison, and beyond the plains

dispatched those messengers and slew

his neighbors in their own domains.

Translated by Katharena Eiermann