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Fyodor Sologub
THE DEVIL'S SWINGS
Below a pine's rough shadow,
Where loud the river sings,
The hairy-handed devil
Pushes his devilish swings.
He swings, and gives a crow,
To and fro
To and fro
The boards creak, bending low,
The taut rope rubbing slow
Against the heavy boughs.
The board sways back, and bracing,
With a long creak swings wide,
The devil, still grimacing,
Guffaws and holds his side.
I tremble to let go;
To and fro
To and fro
I sway and cling, but no,
My languid glances grow
Fast where the devil tows.
Above the looming pine
The blue fiend's sniggers sting:
"You found the swings so fine,
Well, devil take you, swing!"
