Where The Sun Rises And Where It Sets

Once, when returning from far Transylvania Through mountain forests, rocks, and Carpathian ridges, Halting by a ford at the close of day (My companions had sent me ahead to look For passage), I let my horse graze And out of the saddlebag took the Holy Scripture; The light was so gracious, murmur of streams so sweet, That reading Paul's epistles, and seeing the first star, I was soon lulled into a profound sleep. A young man in ornate Greek raiment Touched my arm and I heard his voice: 'Your time, O mortals, hastens by like water, I have descended and known its absyss. It was I, whom cruel Paul chastised in Corinth For having stolen my father's wife, And by his order I was to be excluded From the table at which we shared our meals. Since then I have not been in gatherings of the saints, And for many years I was led by the sinful love Of a poor plaything given to temptation, And so we doomed ourselves to eternal ruin. But my Lord and my God, whom I knew not, Tore me from the ashes with his lightning, In his eyes your truths count for nothing, His mercy saves all living flesh.' Awake under a huge starry sky, Having received help unhoped for, Absolved of care about our platry life, I wiped my eyes wet with tears. No, I have never been to Transylvania. I have never brought messages from there to my church. But I could have. This is an exercise in style. The pluperfect tense Of countries imperfective.