Chichikov

BEATEN LIKE A CUR
By Pavel Chichikov

The Lord God is trusting me with trouble:
If you have none, you may borrow it,
A loan for you, return it, it will double
Interest-bearing trouble

With Me there is a bank account
In which you may deposit all your grief,
Anyone who puts it there may count
On interest-bearing trouble

Then at last the day of payment comes,
And when the Lord consults the final ledger
There’s nothing there to count, there are no sums,
There is no interest-bearing trouble

I am no merchant banker and no usurer,
I paid for you in full—they beat Me like a cur


STORM ARRIVING
By Pavel Chichikov

From the southeast driven clouds
Northwest is the lightning flash
When the two of these converge
Archangels of the night will clash

They have room to clap and storm
Light and wind, rain and fire
Tumult underneath is warm
Bolts of ice are burning wire

Wing on wing, spear on spear
They will set to and twist about
Until the crown of midnight wear
A diadem of thunder-shouts

Those who think the storm far off
Will be confounded by surprise
To see Saint Michael raise his staff
And dash the stars in Satan’s eyes

The Poetry of Pavel Chichikov