I've Lived To See Desire Vanish

I’ve lived to see desire vanish,
With hope I’ve slowly come to part,
And I am left with only anguish,
The fruit of emptiness at heart.

Under the storms of merciless fate,
My worn and withered garland lies--
In sadness, lonesome, I await:
How far away is my demise?

Thus, conquered by a tardy frost,
Through gale’s whistling and shimmer,
Late, on a naked limb exposed
A lonesome leaf is left to quiver!...

poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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Why Feed The Early Signs Of Boredom?

Why feed the early signs of boredom
With sinister and dismal thought,
And wait for separation, burdened
With sorrow, lonesome and distraught?
The day of grief is close at hand!
You’ll stand, alone, out in the sun,
And try to bring back once again
These days, but they will long be gone.
Misfortune! then, you’ll be ready
To die in exile, on the street,
If you could only see your lady,
Or hear the shuffle of her feet.

poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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Tempest

You saw perched on a cliff a maid,
Her raiment white above the breakers,
When the mad sea reared up and played
Its whips of spray on coastal acres
And now and then the lightnings flush,
And purple gleams upon her hover,
And fluttering up in swirling rush,
The wind rides in her airy cover?
Fair is the sea in gales arrayed,
The heavens drained of blue and flashing,
But fairer on her cliff the maid
Than storms and skies and breakers crashing.

poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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Night

My voice, to which love lends a tenderness and yearing,
Disturbs night's dreamy calm ... Pale at my bedside burning,
A taper wastes away ... From out my heart there surge
Stift verses, streams of love, that hum and sing and merge.
And, full of you, rush on, with passion overflowing.
I seem to see your eyes that, in the darkness glowing,
Meet mine ... I see your smile ... You speak to me alone:
My friend, my dearest friend ... I'm your's ... your own.

poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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The High Road In Winter

Between the rolling vapours
The moon glides soft and bright;
Across the dreary fallows
She casts a mournful light.

Along the wintry high road
A troika moves fleet;
Its little bells are ringing
One silver tone and sweet.

Some echo of my country
The driver's song recalls—
The memory of love yearnings
And noisy bacchanals.

No lights, no black-roofed dwellings—
Silence and snow ... I see
For mile on mile the road-posts
In striped monotony.

poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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She

“Confess to me, what’s wrong. You’re in dejection.”
- I love, my friend! - “Which lady holds you captive?”
- She does. - “Glisera? Chloe? Lila’s so attractive!”
- O, no! - “To whom do you submit your soul’s affection?”
- To her! - “You’re humble! Why all this remorse?
Why do you seem so sorrowful and grim?
And who’s to blame? Her fiancé, her dad, of course...”
- It isn’t that! - “Then what?” - For her, I can’t be him.

poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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Night Piece

I can't sleep, and there's no light,
Mirk all round and restless slumber,
Tickings near me without number,
Monotonous clock measuring night!

O you Fates with old wives' chatter,
Sleepy night so softly swaying,
Life with mouselike pitter-patter,
Why vex me, what are you saying?

Boring whispers what implying?
Do you murmur or complain?
Can't you tell me what you're seeking,
Calling me or Prophesying?
Oh for someone to explain
That dark language you are speaking!

poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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A Serenade

I watch Inesilla
Thy window beneath,
Deep slumbers the villa
In night's dusky sheath.

Enamoured I linger,
Close mantled, for thee--
With sword and with guitar,
O look once on me!

Art sleeping? Wilt wake thee
Guitar tones so light?
The argus-eyed greybeard
My swift sword shall smite.

The ladder of ropes
Throw me fearlessly now!
Dost falter? Hast thou, Sweet,
Been false to thy vow?

[...] Read more

poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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Arion

A lot of us were on the bark:
Some framed a sail for windy weather,
The others strongly and together
Moved oars. In silence sunk,
Keeping a rudder, strong and clever,
The skipper drove the heavy skiff;
And I -- with careless belief --
I sang for sailors... . But the stiff
Whirl smashed at once the waters' favor...
All dead -- the captain and his guard! --
But I, the enigmatic bard,
Was thrown to the shore alone.
I sing the former anthems, yet,
And dry my mantle, torn and wet,
In beams of sun under a stone.

poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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A Wish

The days drag on, each moment multiplies
Within my wounded heart the pain and sadness
Of an unhappy love and, dark, gives rise.
To sleepless dreams, the haunting dreams of madness
But I do not complain - instead, I weep;
Tears bring me solace, comforted they leave me.
My spirit, captive held by grief, a deep.
And bitter rapture finds in them, believe me.
Pass, life! Come, empty phantom, onward fly.
And in the silent void of darkness vanish.
Dear it to me my love's unending anguish;
If as I die I love, pray let me die.

poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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