Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

мечты где ваша сладость Aleksandr Pushkin

мечты где ваша сладость Aleksandr Pushkin

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But let my love no longer trouble you I do not wish to cause you any pain By Alexander Pushkin

But let my love no longer trouble you I do not wish to cause you any pain By Alexander Pushkin

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High the river ran in gloom By Alexander Pushkin

High the river ran in gloom By Alexander Pushkin

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We’ve got to have forbidden fruit Or Eden’s joys for us are moot

We’ve got to have forbidden fruit Or Eden’s joys for us are moot

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My whole life has been pledged to this meeting with you By Alexander Pushkin

My whole life has been pledged to this meeting with you By Alexander Pushkin

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We’ve got to have forbidden fruit Or Eden’s joys for us are moot By Alexander Pushkin

We’ve got to have forbidden fruit Or Eden’s joys for us are moot By Alexander Pushkin

»

That Year The Autumn By Alexander Pushkin

That Year The Autumn By Alexander Pushkin

That Year The Autumn By Alexander Pushkin That year the autumn weather lingered Over the field and around the yards, Winter held back, Nature awaited, In January only snow fell at last On the third, at night. And waking early Tatyana saw through the window clearly The yard all covered with morning whiteness, The flower beds, roofs, and all the fences; On the window glass the leaves of frost, The trees in their winter silveriness, And cheerful magpies in the snow. The hills all covered with the soft glow Of winter’s carpet glistening bright, Around all was shining, all was white. »

The Less We Show Our Love By Alexander Pushkin

The Less We Show Our Love By Alexander Pushkin

The Less We Show Our Love By Alexander Pushkin The less we show our love to a woman, Or please her less, and neglect our duty, The more we trap and ruin her surely In the flattering toils of philandery. For, as usual, cold blooded, lechery Obtains its fame from the science of love, Always trumpeting to the skies above, Enjoying itself without a heart. But this most solemn, serious pastime, Was fit for baboons of long ago, Such as were praised in grandad’s time: The fame of Lovelace is withered now, Along with the fame of scarlet shoes And wigs which up to the ceiling rose. »

The Estate By Alexander Pushkin

The Estate By Alexander Pushkin

The Estate By Alexander Pushkin The estate in which our bored Yevgeny Now lived, was in fact a fine retreat: There a lover of the simpler pleasures Would thank the heavens for his fate. His mansion house was solitary, Sheltered by hills in windy weather, And stood by a river. Stretching away Far off the meadows were bright and gay With flowers, and the cornfields golden. And here was a hamlet, there another, And cattle wandered the meadows at random, While shade was cast both deep and wide By a huge garden all overgrown, For the pensive Dryads a secret home. »

Such Were The Thoughts By Alexander Pushkin

Such Were The Thoughts By Alexander Pushkin

Such Were The Thoughts By Alexander Pushkin Such were the thoughts of my Yevgeny. For, from the days of his first youth He was the victim of wildest fancy, Unbridled passions for him were truth. Spoiled by life’s usual encounters, For a time some girl would enchant his heart, But then another would be disenchanting, How wearisome the slow pain of desire, But how wearisome too the successful fire; He heard in the tumult and in silence too The unending protests in his soul, And stifled a yawn with an idle laugh: And so he slaughtered eight years at least Life’s best flowers squander... »

The Statetly Mansion By Alexander Pushkin

The Statetly Mansion By Alexander Pushkin

The Statetly Mansion By Alexander Pushkin The stately mansion was built and planned As all good mansions should really be: Sturdily set in the peaceful land In the refined taste of an age gone by. All of the rooms were wide and lofty, Silk wall paper embellished the drawing room, And portraits of tsars hung on the walls, The stoves were bright with ceramic tiles. All this is nowadays somewhat passé, Indeed, for what reason, I cannot say, But of course for my friend, our story’s hero There was no need for these things at all, Because he would yawn with equal distraction At an ancient pil... »

Where Now Then By Alexander Pushkin

Where Now Then By Alexander Pushkin

Where Now Then? By Alexander Pushkin “Where now then? Ah, these poetic characters!” “Goodbye, Yevgeny, it’s time. I must..” “I do not keep you. But tell me, please, Where do you spend your evenings now?” ” At the Larins.” “Ah, there, but how strange. Good heavens! Is it not torture fit to bust To slaughter every evening there?” “Not at all.” “I cannot understand you. Ah yes, I see it, what it must be In the first place (admit it, is it true?) A simple Russian family, With over zealous hospitality, Preserves an... »

I Still See You By Alexander Pushkin

I Still See You By Alexander Pushkin

I Still See You By Alexander Pushkin “I still see nothing wrong in that .” “But tedious, that’s what is wrong, my friend.” “I hate your modern, fashionable set. Give me the home life and home circle, Where I may…” “Ah! How pastoral! Enough, enough. For God’s sake Lensky. Well? So you’re going? What a pity. But listen: is it impossible For me to see this gentle Phyllida, The object of your thoughts and pen, Your tears, your rhymes, et cetera? Introduce me.” “You’re joking.” “Not at all.” “Glad... »

My Uncle By Alexander Pushkin

My Uncle By Alexander Pushkin

My Uncle By Alexander Pushkin “My uncle, a most worthy gentleman, When he fell seriously ill, By snuffing it made us all respect him, Couldn’t have done better if he tried. His behaviour was a lesson to us all. But, God above, what crushing boredom To sit with the malingerer night and day Not moving even one footstep away. What demeaning hypocrisy To amuse the half-dead codger, To fluff up his pillows, and then, Mournfully to bring him his medicine; To think to oneself, and to sigh: When the devil will the old rascal die?” »

If I Walk By A. Pushkin

If I Walk By A. Pushkin

If I Walk By A. Pushkin If I walk the noisy streets, Or enter a many thronged church, Or sit among the wild young generation, I give way to my thoughts. I say to myself: the years are fleeting, And however many there seem to be, We must all go under the eternal vault, And someone’s hour is already at hand. When I look at a solitary oak I think: the patriarch of the woods. It will outlive my forgotten age As it outlived that of my grandfathers’. If I caress a young child, Immediately I think: farewell! I will yield my place to you, For I must fade while your flower blooms. Each day... »

Who is Not Bored By Alexander Pushkin

Who is Not Bored By Alexander Pushkin

Who is Not Bored By Alexander Pushkin Who is not bored with acting a part, Repeating with variation the same old thing, Striving solemnly to assert A fact known to all from long ago, To listen to the same tedious objections, Do battle with rooted convictions, Such as never were and never have been Even in a young girl who’s just thirteen! Who is not exhausted by threats, Cajollings, swearings, pretended passion, Notes six pages long (all the fashion), Deceits, back biting, slanders, tears, The supervision of aunts and mother, And the heavy friendship of the husband of one’s lover! »

So Thought By Alexander Pushkin

So Thought By Alexander Pushkin

So Thought By Alexander Pushkin So thought our young ne’er-do-well Flying through the dust on a mail coach. By the supreme will of Zeus He was the inheritor of all his kin. Good friends of Ludmilla and Ruslan! With the hero of my romance Allow me to make you acquainted Without further prelude,this very instant. Onegin, my good Sir or Madam, Was born on the banks of the Neva, Where perhaps you too were born, Or made your name, my dearest reader. There too I once enjoyed myself, But North winds are damaging to my health. »

The Storm By Alexander Pushkin

The Storm By Alexander Pushkin

The Storm By Alexander Pushkin The storm wind covers the sky Whirling the fleecy snow drifts, Now it howls like a wolf, Now it is crying, like a lost child, Now rustling the decayed thatch On our tumbledown roof, Now, like a delayed traveller, Knocking on our window pane. Our wretched little cottage Is gloomy and dark. Why do you sit all silent Hugging the window, old gran? Has the howling of the storm Wearied you, at last, dear friend? Or are you dozing fitfully Under the spinning wheel’s humming? Let us drink, dearest friend To my poor wasted youth. Let us drink from grief – Whe... »

Let’s Go Then By Alexander Pushkin

Let’s Go Then By Alexander Pushkin

Let’s Go Then By Alexander Pushkin “Let’s go then.” – They set off rapidly, And soon at the Larin’s are ensconced. The attentiveness at times was wearying Of the old fashioned hospitality. Of well known treats a plethora: Preserves on dishes are brought in, On a polished table then is placed A jug with cranberry water in »

He Settled In The Sitting Room

He Settled In The Sitting Room

He Settled In The Sitting Room He settled in the sitting room Where the old-timer in his country ways For forty years had gazed from the window Or balled at the housekeeper, or swatted flies. A simple room, with oaken floors, Two cupboards, a table and a stuffed settee, And not a single spot of ink. Onegin opened the cupboard doors; He found in one a book of expenses, In another a shelf of home brewed brandy, And apple water in an earthenware jar, And from eighteen o eight a calendar. The old man having such a busy life Found that looking in books brought too much strife. »

The Night – Alexander Pushkin

The Night – Alexander Pushkin

My voice that is for you the languid one, and gentle, Disturbs the velvet of the dark night’s mantle, By my bedside, a candle, my sad guard, Burns, and my poems ripple and merge in flood — And run the streams of love, run, full of you alone, And in the dark, your eyes shine like the precious stones, And smile to me, and hear I the voice: My friend, my sweetest friend… I love… I’m yours… I’m yours! ~ The Night – Alexander Pushkin »

The Name – Alexander Pushkin

The Name – Alexander Pushkin

What is my name to you? ‘T will die: a wave that has but rolled to reach with a lone splash a distant beach; or in the timbered night a cry … ‘T will leave a lifeless trace among names on your tablets: the design of an entangled gravestone line in an unfathomable tongue. What is it then? A long-dead past, lost in the rush of madder dreams, upon your soul it will not cast Mnemosyne’s pure tender beams. But if some sorrow comes to you, utter my name with sighs, and tell the silence: “Memory is true – there beats a heart wherein I dwell.” ~ The Name ̵... »

The Dream – Alexander Pushkin

The Dream – Alexander Pushkin

Not long ago, in a charming dream, I saw myself — a king with crown’s treasure; I was in love with you, it seemed, And heart was beating with a pleasure. I sang my passion’s song by your enchanting knees. Why, dreams, you didn’t prolong my happiness forever? But gods deprived me not of whole their favor: I only lost the kingdom of my dreams. ~ The Dream – Alexander Pushkin »

The Night – Alexander Pushkin

The Night – Alexander Pushkin

My voice that is for you the languid one, and gentle, Disturbs the velvet of the dark night’s mantle, By my bedside, a candle, my sad guard, Burns, and my poems ripple and merge in flood — And run the streams of love, run, full of you alone, And in the dark, your eyes shine like the precious stones, And smile to me, and hear I the voice: My friend, my sweetest friend… I love… I’m yours… I’m yours! ~ The Night – Alexander Pushkin »

The Prophet – Alexander Pushkin

The Prophet – Alexander Pushkin

Longing for spiritual springs, I dragged myself through desert sands … An angel with three pairs of wings Arrived to me at cross of lands; With fingers so light and slim He touched my eyes as in a dream: And opened my prophetic eyes Like eyes of eagle in surprise. He touched my ears in movement, single, And they were filled with noise and jingle: I heard a shuddering of heavens, And angels’ flight on azure heights And creatures’ crawl in long sea nights, And rustle of vines in distant valleys. And he bent down to my chin, And he tore off my tongue of sin, In cheat and idle ta... »

The Singer – Alexander Pushkin

The Singer – Alexander Pushkin

Did you attend? He sang by grove ripe – The bard of love, the singer of his mourning. When fields were silent by the early morning, To sad and simple sounds of a pipe Did you attend? Did you behold in dark of forest leaf The bard of love, the singer of his sadness? The trace of tears, the smile, the utter paleness, The quiet look, full of eternal grief, Did you behold? Then did you sigh when hearing how cries The bard of love, the singer of his dole? When in the woods you saw the young man, sole, And met the look of his extinguished eyes, Then did you sigh? ~ The Singer – Alexander... »

The Talisman – Alexander Pushkin

The Talisman – Alexander Pushkin

Where the sea forever dances Over lonely cliff and dune, Where sweet twilight’s vapor glances In a warmer-glowing moon, Where with the seraglio’s graces Daylong toys the Mussulman, An enchantress ‘mid embraces Handed me a talisman. ‘Mid embraces I was bidden: “Guard this talisman of mine: In it secret power is hidden! Love himself has made it thine. Neither death nor ills nor aging, My beloved, does it ban, Nor in gales and tempest raging Can avail my talisman. Never will it help thee gather Treasures of the Orient coast, Neither to thy harness tether Captives of ... »

The Upas Tree – Alexander Pushkin

The Upas Tree – Alexander Pushkin

Deep in the desert’s misery, far in the fury of the sand, there stands the awesome Upas Tree lone watchman of a lifeless land. The wilderness, a world of thirst, in wrath engendered it and filled its every root, every accursed grey leafstalk with a sap that killed. Dissolving in the midday sun the poison oozes through its bark, and freezing when the day is done gleams thick and gem-like in the dark. No bird flies near, no tiger creeps; alone the whirlwind, wild and black, assails the tree of death and sweeps away with death upon its back. And though some roving cloud may stain with glanc... »

The Water-Nymph – Alexander Pushkin

The Water-Nymph – Alexander Pushkin

In lakeside leafy groves, a friar Escaped all worries; there he passed His summer days in constant prayer, Deep studies and eternal fast. Already with a humble shovel The elder dug himself a grave – As, calling saints to bless his hovel, Death – nothing other – did he crave. So once, upon a falling night, he Was bowing by his wilted shack With meekest prayer to the Almighty. The grove was turning slowly black; Above the lake a mist was lifting; Through milky clouds across the sky The ruddy moon was softly drifting, When water drew the friar’s eye… He’s looki... »

The wondrous moment of our meeting – Alexander Pushkin

The wondrous moment of our meeting – Alexander Pushkin

The wondrous moment of our meeting… Still I remember you appear Before me like a vision fleeting, A beauty’s angel pure and clear. In hopeless ennui surrounding The worldly bustle, to my ear For long your tender voice kept sounding, For long in dreams came features dear. Time passed. Unruly storms confounded Old dreams, and I from year to year Forgot how tender you had sounded, Your heavenly features once so dear. My backwoods days dragged slow and quiet — Dull fence around, dark vault above — Devoid of God and uninspired, Devoid of tears, of fire, of love. Sleep from m... »

The Wish – Alexander Pushkin

The Wish – Alexander Pushkin

I shed my tears; my tears – my consolation; And I am silent; my murmur is dead, My soul, sunk in a depression’s shade, Hides in its depths the bitter exultation. I don’t deplore my passing dream of life — Vanish in dark, the empty apparition! I care only for my love’s infliction, And let me die, but only die in love! ~ The Wish – Alexander Pushkin »

Thou and You – Alexander Pushkin

Thou and You – Alexander Pushkin

She substituted, by a chance, For empty “you” — the gentle “thou”; And all my happy dreams, at once, In loving heart again resound. In bliss and silence do I stay, Unable to maintain my role: “Oh, how sweet you are!” I say — “How I love thee!” says my soul. ~ Thou and You – Alexander Pushkin »

To Gnedich – Alexander Pushkin

To Gnedich – Alexander Pushkin

With Homer you conversed alone for days and nights, Our waiting hours were passing slowly, And shining you came down from the mysterious heights And brought to us your tablets holy – So? in the wilderness, beneath a tent, you found Us, feasting mad in empty gaiety, Singing our savage songs and galloping around Some newly hand-created deity. We grew confused, aloof from your good rays hid we. Then, seized of wrath and desolation, Have you, O prophet, cursed your mindless family And smashed your tablets in frustration? No, you have cursed us not. From heights you disappear Into the shade o... »

To My Friends – Alexander Pushkin

To My Friends – Alexander Pushkin

The chain of golden days and nights Is still your heritage from Deity, And, still, the languid maidens’ eyes Are turned to you as well intently. So, play and sing, friends of my years! Lose very quickly passing evening, And, at your heedless joy and singing, I will be smiling through my tears. ~ To My Friends – Alexander Pushkin »

Worse Than an Idyl

Worse Than an Idyl

1815-1816 Worse than an idyl and colder than an ode, A misanthrope – by Hell, by Silliness – a bard – In what a terrible and quite mischievous mode Has Nature raised her ugly ward! You are afraid of men, as of some deathly illness, Oh, miserable sample of the appalling dream! Be joyuos, evil fool! You will be ne’er sun-beamed By love or friendship through existence. By Alexander Pushkin Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, March 28, 2005 »

And You By Alexander Pushkin

And You By Alexander Pushkin

And you, benevolent, fastidious reader, In your imported new barouche, Leave the city, which is uncouth, Which you enjoyed throughout the winter, Join me and my impatient Muse And listen to the forest’s hum Above the nameless rivulet’s noise, Where Yevgeny in his rural home, That idle hermit, strange and gloomy Had spent the winter recently, A neighbour to my lovely Tanya, The young and always gentle dreamer, But where he is no longer found, Although sad memories of him abound. И вы, читатель благосклонный, В своей коляске выписной Оставьте град неугомонный, Где веселились вы зимо... »

As Happens By Alexander Pushkin

As Happens By Alexander Pushkin

As happens, the flattering voice of the times Praised the lewd boldness it saw in him. It is true, from a pistol at twenty paces He could hit a playing card in bang on. And we may mention that once in battle Carried away by a rapturous calling, He distinguished himself by boldly falling From his Kalmyk stallion, right in the dirt, Being blindly drunk, and lost his shirt To a Frenchman, who took him captive, A proud prize, a Regulus, honour’s devotee; Prepared once again to suffer calumny, Provided that at Vera’s, in the morning, late, He could drink three bottles on the slate. Быв... »

In Those Days By Alexander Pushkin

In Those Days By Alexander Pushkin

In those days, when at the Lyceum I peacefully opened forth into bloom, I took Apuleius to my bosom, But for Cicero there was little room. And in days spent far in secret valleys In spring, where swans have a dying call, Near waters where the quiet lights fall, The Muse began to visit me. And suddenly my student’s cell Lit up: the Muse alighted And opened a world that youth delighted In, and sang of childish joys, And the fame of Russia cherished of old, And the trembling passions that hearts enfold. В те дни, когда в садах Лицея Я безмятежно расцветал, Читал охотно Апулея, А Цицерона н... »

Sloping Pine By Alexander Pushkin

Sloping Pine By Alexander Pushkin

On a sloping pine branch, downward bending Often an early morning breeze Over the peaceful gravestone wending Rocked to and fro a silent wreath. And often, when the sky was darkened, Arm in arm two friends came here, And in the moonlight sat and hearkened, Embraced each other, and shed a tear. But now… forgotten lies the stone; The pathway there is overgrown, And the branch of its old wreath is bare. Alone in its shade, wrinkled with care, The same old shepherd sings, and sits Plaiting his shoes with wooden strips. На ветви сосны преклоненной, Бывало, ранний ветерок Над этой урною смире... »

Chased By Rays By Alexander Pushkin

Chased By Rays By Alexander Pushkin

Chased by the rays of springtime sun The snow already from surrounding hills In turbid streams begins to run To meet the liquid flooded fields. Awakening nature with a smile Greets the first dawning of the spring; The skies sparkle with a blue wing; Transparently the woods beguile With green, a downy coat assuming. The bee sets out for the gift of gold To distant fields from his waxen cell. The valleys in dappled brightness are drying; The herd is restive, and a nightingale In the silence of night sings its pensive tale. »

Tatyana By Alexander Pushkin

Tatyana By Alexander Pushkin

Tatyana By Alexander Pushkin Tatyana, (to her heart’s core a Russian, Herself not knowing the reason why), With all their cold and frigid beauty, Loved Russian winters with great passion: The sun-lit hoar-frost on frozen days, Sledge rides, and from the sunset’s glow The rosy radiance on the snow; The foggy nights of Epiphany, Evenings which, by ancient rule, They celebrated in the old time ways: The servants from the house and yard All told the fortunes of their mistresses, Each year they gave them the blissful word: An army husband and a trip abroad. »

Near Hills By Alexander Pushkin

Near Hills By Alexander Pushkin

Near hills, which lie in half a circle, We’ll make our way to where a stream Around a meadow runs and gurgles, To a river, through a wood of limes. There the nightingale, the Spring’s lover, Sings all night long; the wild thyme blows, And sounds of waters sweetly hover ― There is the poet’s memorial stone, In the shade of two old crooked pines, And to the traveller the inscription shows: “Valdimir Lensky the poet lies here, Who early found the grave’s release At such and such age, in such and such year, Rest, youthful poet, rest in peace”. Меж гор, лежащих ... »

The Time Invites By Alexander Pushkin

The Time Invites By Alexander Pushkin

The time invites: you seasoned idlers, Sages of Epicurean rule, You, fortunate philosophers, You, fledglings of the Levshin school, You, Priams of the countryside, And all you sentimental ladies, The spring calls to the fields, the lanes, The time of warmth, of work, of blossoms, The time of strolls, of inspiration, And tempting nights beneath the moon. To the fields, my friends! Make haste, make haste! In carriages all laden heavily, Drawn by post horses, or your own livery, March in procession through the town joyously. Вот время: добрые ленивцы, Эпикурейцы-мудрецы, Вы, равнодушные счастлив... »

Using My Own Rules By Alexander Pushkin

Using My Own Rules By Alexander Pushkin

But, using my own rule as measure, With passion only as my law, Sharing the crowd’s wild taste and pleasure, My sprightly Muse, locked in my heart’s core, I took to noisy feasts and brawls, Challenging the watch in the midnight streets. And there in the hubbub of the halls She brought along her glorious gifts, And like a Bacchant danced and revelled, Sang to the guests for a cup of wine, While men who were young in that golden time Tumultuously cheered for her and yelled. In her with my friends I would ever take pride, This heedless Muse who was by my side. И я, в закон себе вменя... »

Winter By Alexander Pushkin

Winter By Alexander Pushkin

Winter By Alexander Pushkin Winter ! The peasant breathes a sigh, Renews his sledge, and makes his way. His horse, snorting in the fresh snow With a finicky trot gets along somehow. And now the dashing kibitka flies, In the powdery snow cutting feathery furrows. The coachman sits huddled upon his box, In a sheepskin coat and a scarlet sash. A yard boy runs out, and on his sledge His favourite ‘Dasher’ is the driver, While he himself is the willing puller; The rascal struggles with frozen hands; What fun it is, but so painful too, While his mother scolds him above at the window. »

And Now By Alexander Pushkin

And Now By Alexander Pushkin

And now I am the first to reward The Muse with an evening reception; Her rural unadorned perfection With jealous timidity I guard. Through the bulging crowds of aristocrats, The military show-offs, diplomats, And haughty women she glides straight past, And seated quietly at last Admires the noisy crush and bustle, The chatter, and the silk’s sharp rustle, The slow presentation of the guests Before the young and dazzling hostess; And the men packed squarely around the dames As if they were only picture frames. И ныне музу я впервые На светский раут привожу; На прелести её степные С ревни... »

In One Of The Tents By Alexander Pushkin

In One Of The Tents By Alexander Pushkin

In one of the tents an old man is awake, He sits in front of the dying fire Warmed by the heat that the ashes make And in the distant fields he looks afar Where the nighttime mists have strewed them over. He awaits the return of his young daughter Who in the empty steppes has gone to wander, She is used to have her freedom there, And she will return, but it’s already dark And from the distant clouds the moon Its station will abandon soon, – But of Zemfira no trace, no sound, And the old man’s supper is growing cold. »

Seeing That Lensky By Alexander Pushkin

Seeing That Lensky By Alexander Pushkin

Seeing That Lensky By Alexander Pushkin Seeing that Lensky had already gone, Onegin, again oppressed with gloom, Alongside Olga became as stone, But pleased with the damage he had done. While she beside him dancing idly, Yawned and glanced around for Lensky, Tired by the endless cotillon, Which exhausted her like a heavy dream. At last it’s ended. They hasten to supper. Beds then are found; and for the guests Spaces are made from hall to cellar, Even the maids rooms. For all need rest, And grateful slumber. Onegin alone Sets off to ride and sleep at home. Заметив, сто Владимир скрылся, ... »

And So By Alexander Pushkin

And So By Alexander Pushkin

And so, forgetting St. Petersburg, The gorgeous feasts, the lights, the speeches, Amidst Moldavia’s gloomy reaches My Muse visited the nomad yurts, The peaceful tribes in their wandering tents, And among them grew savage and unkempt, Exchanging the language of the gods For those strange, meagre, broken sounds, For the songs of the steppe she so admired. Then once more everything changed around, And there in my garden on the grass She appeared once more, a provincial lass, And on her face a thoughtful look, Her hand often carrying a French book. И, позабыв столицы дальной И блеск и шумни... »

In Those Days By Alexander Pushkin

In Those Days By Alexander Pushkin

In those days, when at the Lyceum I peacefully opened forth into bloom, I took Apuleius to my bosom, But for Cicero there was little room. And in days spent far in secret valleys In spring, where swans have a dying call, Near waters where the quiet lights fall, The Muse began to visit me. And suddenly my student’s cell Lit up: the Muse alighted And opened a world that youth delighted In, and sang of childish joys, And the fame of Russia cherished of old, And the trembling passions that hearts enfold. В те дни, когда в садах Лицея Я безмятежно расцветал, Читал охотно Апулея, А Цицерона н... »

Sloping Pine By Alexander Pushkin

Sloping Pine By Alexander Pushkin

On a sloping pine branch, downward bending Often an early morning breeze Over the peaceful gravestone wending Rocked to and fro a silent wreath. And often, when the sky was darkened, Arm in arm two friends came here, And in the moonlight sat and hearkened, Embraced each other, and shed a tear. But now… forgotten lies the stone; The pathway there is overgrown, And the branch of its old wreath is bare. Alone in its shade, wrinkled with care, The same old shepherd sings, and sits Plaiting his shoes with wooden strips. На ветви сосны преклоненной, Бывало, ранний ветерок Над этой урною смире... »

And Now By Alexander Pushkin

And Now By Alexander Pushkin

And now I am the first to reward The Muse with an evening reception; Her rural unadorned perfection With jealous timidity I guard. Through the bulging crowds of aristocrats, The military show-offs, diplomats, And haughty women she glides straight past, And seated quietly at last Admires the noisy crush and bustle, The chatter, and the silk’s sharp rustle, The slow presentation of the guests Before the young and dazzling hostess; And the men packed squarely around the dames As if they were only picture frames. И ныне музу я впервые На светский раут привожу; На прелести её степные С ревни... »

Chased By Rays By Alexander Pushkin

Chased By Rays By Alexander Pushkin

Chased by the rays of springtime sun The snow already from surrounding hills In turbid streams begins to run To meet the liquid flooded fields. Awakening nature with a smile Greets the first dawning of the spring; The skies sparkle with a blue wing; Transparently the woods beguile With green, a downy coat assuming. The bee sets out for the gift of gold To distant fields from his waxen cell. The valleys in dappled brightness are drying; The herd is restive, and a nightingale In the silence of night sings its pensive tale. »

The Time Invites By Alexander Pushkin

The Time Invites By Alexander Pushkin

The time invites: you seasoned idlers, Sages of Epicurean rule, You, fortunate philosophers, You, fledglings of the Levshin school, You, Priams of the countryside, And all you sentimental ladies, The spring calls to the fields, the lanes, The time of warmth, of work, of blossoms, The time of strolls, of inspiration, And tempting nights beneath the moon. To the fields, my friends! Make haste, make haste! In carriages all laden heavily, Drawn by post horses, or your own livery, March in procession through the town joyously. Вот время: добрые ленивцы, Эпикурейцы-мудрецы, Вы, равнодушные счастлив... »

As Happens By Alexander Pushkin

As Happens By Alexander Pushkin

As happens, the flattering voice of the times Praised the lewd boldness it saw in him. It is true, from a pistol at twenty paces He could hit a playing card in bang on. And we may mention that once in battle Carried away by a rapturous calling, He distinguished himself by boldly falling From his Kalmyk stallion, right in the dirt, Being blindly drunk, and lost his shirt To a Frenchman, who took him captive, A proud prize, a Regulus, honour’s devotee; Prepared once again to suffer calumny, Provided that at Vera’s, in the morning, late, He could drink three bottles on the slate. Быв... »

In One Of The Tents By Alexander Pushkin

In One Of The Tents By Alexander Pushkin

In one of the tents an old man is awake, He sits in front of the dying fire Warmed by the heat that the ashes make And in the distant fields he looks afar Where the nighttime mists have strewed them over. He awaits the return of his young daughter Who in the empty steppes has gone to wander, She is used to have her freedom there, And she will return, but it’s already dark And from the distant clouds the moon Its station will abandon soon, – But of Zemfira no trace, no sound, And the old man’s supper is growing cold. »

Tatyana By Alexander Pushkin

Tatyana By Alexander Pushkin

Tatyana By Alexander Pushkin Tatyana, (to her heart’s core a Russian, Herself not knowing the reason why), With all their cold and frigid beauty, Loved Russian winters with great passion: The sun-lit hoar-frost on frozen days, Sledge rides, and from the sunset’s glow The rosy radiance on the snow; The foggy nights of Epiphany, Evenings which, by ancient rule, They celebrated in the old time ways: The servants from the house and yard All told the fortunes of their mistresses, Each year they gave them the blissful word: An army husband and a trip abroad. »

And You By Alexander Pushkin

And You By Alexander Pushkin

And you, benevolent, fastidious reader, In your imported new barouche, Leave the city, which is uncouth, Which you enjoyed throughout the winter, Join me and my impatient Muse And listen to the forest’s hum Above the nameless rivulet’s noise, Where Yevgeny in his rural home, That idle hermit, strange and gloomy Had spent the winter recently, A neighbour to my lovely Tanya, The young and always gentle dreamer, But where he is no longer found, Although sad memories of him abound. И вы, читатель благосклонный, В своей коляске выписной Оставьте град неугомонный, Где веселились вы зимо... »

Near Hills By Alexander Pushkin

Near Hills By Alexander Pushkin

Near hills, which lie in half a circle, We’ll make our way to where a stream Around a meadow runs and gurgles, To a river, through a wood of limes. There the nightingale, the Spring’s lover, Sings all night long; the wild thyme blows, And sounds of waters sweetly hover ― There is the poet’s memorial stone, In the shade of two old crooked pines, And to the traveller the inscription shows: “Valdimir Lensky the poet lies here, Who early found the grave’s release At such and such age, in such and such year, Rest, youthful poet, rest in peace”. Меж гор, лежащих ... »

Using My Own Rules By Alexander Pushkin

Using My Own Rules By Alexander Pushkin

But, using my own rule as measure, With passion only as my law, Sharing the crowd’s wild taste and pleasure, My sprightly Muse, locked in my heart’s core, I took to noisy feasts and brawls, Challenging the watch in the midnight streets. And there in the hubbub of the halls She brought along her glorious gifts, And like a Bacchant danced and revelled, Sang to the guests for a cup of wine, While men who were young in that golden time Tumultuously cheered for her and yelled. In her with my friends I would ever take pride, This heedless Muse who was by my side. И я, в закон себе вменя... »

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