Here you will find the Poem The Gift Of The Terek of poet Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov
Through the rocks in wildest courses Seethes the Terek grim of mood, Tempest howling its bewailing, Pearled with foam its tearful flood. At the mountain's feet soft streaming, Gentler grown its murmurs be, And with greeting full of fawning Speaks to the Caspian Sea: 'Hospitable part thy billows, Give me room, oh Ocean grave! From a distance drawing thither-- Scarce my weary currents wave. Born upon the edge of Kasbek, By the breast of clouds renewed, Hatred have I sworn to mankind, Who with us, the free, make feud. See, by rage of my own fury Lies despoiled my Darjal home, And as playthings for thy children, Pebbles bearing now I come.' Yet upon her strands a'dreaming, Mute the grey Sea did remain, And the Terek, silver foaming, Spoke caressingly again. 'Grey Sea I would serve thee only, Have a present borne to-day-- See, 'tis a young Carabineer Who has fallen in the fray. How his coat of mail is gleaming Silver on the billows' span! Golden on his trappings shining Blessing of the Alcoran! Menacing the one who slew him Scowls the brow's relentless feud, By his noble life blood crimsoned O'er his lips his hair is glued. Through the half-closed eyelids glancing Still the lust of quarrel mocks, From his head deep underneath him Flow the matted raven locks.' Motionless upon her beaches Did the grey Sea still remain, And the Terek foaming yellow In displeasure spoke again. 'So then, take him as a present, As I nothing fairer know On this round earth,--for thee only This rare prize I've guarded so! 'Tis a mountain Cossack's body Wafted 'mid my billows' dance, See his hair,--no silk is softer-- See his shoulder's gold expanse! See how o'er his red lips speechless Now the seated eyes find rest; Trickling yet the purple life blood From the small wound on his breast. For a young and holy maiden, Weeps lamenting, every heart! One sole Cossack in the village, In this mourning takes no part. From the confines of his country Rode he forth with boding grey, 'Neath the dagger of the Tscherkes He has breathed his soul away.' And the Terek paused; behold now In the gleaming foam flood drowned, Silvered in the spraying billows Dips a head with rushes crowned. And the hoary one's lips whisper Haughty words of youthful fire, And the eyes lit with love lustre Flame with passionate desire. Foaming, rushing on swift longing, Seethed he up in youthful zest-- And the Terek flood was wedded With him in embraces blest.