A relatively new translation by Peter Norman of a poem by the great Russian poet who died young in a duel.
Reading it reminded me of the recent devastation wrought upon my country by what was reportedly the strongest typhoon which ever hit land ("Yolanda," international codename: "Haiyan"), the city it destroyed (Tacloban), the great sea surges it created and the various tragic human sufferings it caused.
The poem's central character was a guy named Yevgeny and the city was Petrograd (before it became St. Petersburg). He was away from his fiancee Perasha when the storm struck and swelled the river Neva--
"All night the Neva
Strained towards the sea, against the strom,
But could not overcome their raging fury...
And no longer could it struggle...
By morning above its banks
Throngs of people jostled each other,
Revelling at the towering of
Spray and foam of waters now enraged.
But the strength of the winds from the gulf
Drove back the blocked Neva and it
Turned furious, tempestuous,
And plunged the islands into flood,
The weather grew more violent still,
The Neva swelled up and roared,
Bubbling like a cauldron, swirling,
And of a sudden, like a frenzied beast,
Flung itself upon the city.
All fled before it; round about
All was of a sudden empty--the waters
Flowed into subterranean cellars,
The canals surged against the gratings,
And Petropolis became afloat, deep
Like Triton, plunged waist-high in water.
A siege! Attack! Malicious waves,
Like thieves, climb through the windows. Boats
Ram and smash the glass panes with their poops;
Trays under soaking coverings,
Broken pieces of huts and beams and roofs,
The goods of thrifty traders,
The chattels of beggars, pale of face,
Bridges torn away by storm,
Coffins from the sodden churchyard
Float down the streets!"
Water and wind can destroy completely. As in Tacloban and the places which crossed Yolanda's path, the survivors' immediate needs were the most basic--
"The people
Perceive God's wrath and wait their doom.
Alas! All is lost: where will they find
Both food and shelter? ..."
Then the leader and the relief efforts:
"...In that grim year
The late Emperor still ruled with glory
Over Russia. Onnto the balcony
He stepped, both saddened and bemused
And spake: 'No Tsar can command
The elements of God.' In thought he sat
And gazed and gazed with eyes of sorrow
At the terrible disaster.
Whole squares were turned to lakes,
Broad rivers flooded into streets.
The palace seemed a forlorn island.
The Tsar gave voice and from end to end,
By streets both near and far his generals
Set off on their perilous journeys,
Through raging waters to save the folk,
Struck dumb with fear, from drowning,
And secure their homes, their houses."
Yevgeny survived the catastrophe and immediately went to look for his beloved Parasha (and her widowed mother). But her house was gone--
"A pile of rubble heaped before him;
Some buildings abandoned, some torn down,
Some houses all awry, some destroyed,
Others shifted by the waves; all around
Lie scattered bodies, like a battlefield.
Quite heedless, tormented to exhaustion,
Yevgeny runs headlong to the spot,
Where fate awaits him with unknown news,
As though enclosed in a sealed letter.
And now he runs through the town's outskirts,
And here's the gulf, the house is near...
But what is this?...
He came to a halt,
Went back a little and returned.
He looks...he walks...he looks again.
Here's the spot where their house stood;
Here's the willow. The gates were here--
Torn down, it's clear. Where then's the house"
To know what happened to Yolanda's many surviving victims is to know Yevgeny's fate in this story-poem written 170 years ago.