The Prophet by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

Where will I find my inner well-spring
it’s already Spring, and well
I haven’t seen a thing
I haven’t heard the angles
or even demons instructing
me on what should or shouldn’t be
I fly like an eagle gallump like an elephant
and it doesn’t seem to make much difference
except to the wizard snakes
which rattle my brain
with their sin waves
saying with forked tongues
“Keep it up, and you’ll be one of us”