On his journey to Arzrum (to hell with Tsarist
Bans) Pushkin left scorching Georgia, attained
Heavenly Armenia, and met on the road the bizarrest
Sight: a rough ox-cart that strained
Up a steep hill, grimly conveying
A body Tbilisi-ward, victim of a slaying
By an enraged mob in Tehran (the men said).
Turned out to be his friend, Griboyed-
ov – poet, playwright (“Woe from Wit”), minor
Composer, wounded duellist, and lastly late
Ambassador to the perfidious Persian court. His fate-
Filled exit was “instant and beautiful” – none finer,
Pushkin wrote. But their posthumous meeting was fake,
Just another “what if?” artists make.
(11.1.26) v 1.01
