In high noon's heat in a Caucasian valley <br />I lay quite still, a bullet in my breast; <br />The smoke still rose from my deep wound, <br />As drop by drop my blood flowed out. <br /> <br />I lay alone upon the valley's sand; <br />The mountain ledges closed in all around, <br />Sun burned their yellow peaks <br />It burned me, too-but deep as death I slept. <br /> <br />I dreamt I saw the shining lights <br />Of evening feasting in my homeland. <br />Young maids with flowers in their hair <br />Spoke gaily of me 'mongst themselves. <br /> <br />But one maid sat apart in thought <br />And did not enter gaily in, <br />Her youthful soul was caught it seemed, <br />Lord God knows how, in some sad dream: <br /> <br />She dreamt about a valley in the Caucasus; <br />She knew the corpse that lay upon the ground; <br />His breast was blackened by a smoking wound, <br />His cooling blood was flowing in a stream.<br /><br />Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-high-noon-s-heat/
