Selected 12 poems by Pushkin:
1. "For Natalia"
Why do I not dare to state it? Margot is most to my liking.
Well, even I know clearly what kind of a bird Cupid is;
This passion feels indulgent, and I must confess - I'm in hot love too!
Happy days have flown away; before this, not knowing the burden of love,
I only lived and sang, whether in the theater, in the ballroom,
in amusement or at a ball, I only flew like the light wind;
And, to make a mockery of the god of love, I have depicted the lovely opposite sex
ludicrously; but this mockery, O mockery, is not in vain?
I too have fallen in love at last, and even I, alas, am mad with love.
Mockery, freedom, - all left behind,
Ketu? I have retired, and now I am - Seladon!
At the sight of Natalia's showy beauty, raced to serve Thalia's beauty,
Cupidine shot into my heart! So, Natalia, I confess,
that my heart is full of your silhouette, and for the first time, let me shyly say,
that the beauty of a woman fascinates my soul. All day long, however it wore away,
you were always occupying my heart; night came down,-and only you
I saw in the land of illusory dreams; I saw, as if dressed in cloudy garments,
the lovely one with me; her timid and sweet breath,
the white trembling of her breast, white as snow,
and the half-open, half-closed eyes, the ghostly, unpalatable stillness of the night-
Ah, how thrilling it all was! As if I were talking to her alone,
I saw ...... the pure lily, and could not help trembling, agonizing, and being silent ......
I woke up ...... only a Darkness, embracing gathered in front of my lonely bed!
I sighed y: the weary, dark-eyed dream,
alas, had spread its wings and flown away. My passion burned more fiercely,
and with every moment that passed, tormenting love made me weaker.
My mind was always striving for something, but what was the use? No man
has ever been willing to make his will plain to a woman. Instead, they cover it up one way or another.
I, on the other hand - want to make my heart clear. All things that lovers will
not even to themselves; this quirk amazes me!
But I would have wrapped myself in my coat, and tilted my tightly-bound bonnet,
and, in the darkness, like Philemon, rubbed Aniuda's soft hand,
and, while explaining the bitterness of love, would have taken her for my own!
I wish: that thou, like Nazola, hadst kept me with a warm look,
or that I, like the small Rogina, had loved the gray-haired Obecken,
the old man forsaken by Fate, who, with wig and wide cloak,
with his reckless, fiery hand, had stroked the soft, snow-white breasts... ...
I wish ...... but a sea separates me, and I will not walk on the sea,
Though I love you madly, what is the use of all my wishing, since we cannot be together?
What is the use of all my wishing? And yet, Natalia! You do not yet know
who is your gentle Seladon, you do not understand why even
even hope I dare not harbor a trace of, O Natalia, and I have to explain:
I am not a harem owner, a Turk, or a Negro slave.
It would be a mistake to guess that I am a Chinese man of manners, or an Amerindian.
Don't think I'm a Kraut, too, with a beer mug in my hand, a pointy hat on my head,
and a hand-rolled paper cigarette always in my mouth. Don't think I'm a Hussar
With a long sword in my hand and a steel helmet on my head, I don't love the din of war,
I can't weigh down swords and axes just because Adam sinned.
"Who art thou then, rambling lover, behold, behold the lofty courtyard wall,
which floats down the dark shadows of eternity at the bottom of the silence, behold the locked doors and windows,
in which only the spectral lamps shine ...... O Natalia, I ...... am an ascetic!
2. "To Natasha"
The beautiful summer withers and fades, the bright days are flying by;
The dark night's lingering mist fills the dozing shadows;
The fertile fields are empty, and the frolicking streams grow cold;
The luxuriant forests sorrowfully whiten the curls; and the vault of the sky looks bleak and pale.
Beloved Natasha! Where are you? Why is there no sign of you?
Is it possible that you do not want to share that ****ing time with a friend who knows you well?
Whether on the sparkling lake, or in the shade of the fragrant linden tree,
whether early in the morning, or late in the evening, I cannot see you.
Soon, soon, the cold winter, will visit the forests and fields;
In the smoky farmhouse, the fire will soon be blazing;
But still I will not be able to see her charmingly, as if she were a yellow finch in a cage,
Dismayedly I sit alone at home, missing my Natasha dearly.
3. "Autumn Morning"
Drummed up a clamor; the sound of the reed flute in the field
Consumed my lonely cottage, and the last dream flew out of my head with the silhouette of Lillian,
together. The shadows of night have faded from the sky,
And the morning sun rises, and flashes the light of day-
A mute wilderness is left around me ......
She is no longer there... ...and on that shore-
She came to meet me every clear night,
but I can no longer find a trace of her beautiful feet
left behind on that shore at this moment, in the meadow,
.
I tramped in perplexity through the depths of the dense forest,
calling out the unmistakable name;
I cried out for her - but only the empty fields
responded in the distance and in my lonely voice.
I wandered in fancy towards the stream,
and saw only its gurgling waters,
and the ripples no longer warbled with her unforgettable beauty,
she was no more.
Oh, I shall not be in a merry mood till the sweet spring
comes!
At this moment the cold hand of Autumn strips the birch and the linden of their heads;
It clamors in the open woods; the yellowed and defeated leaves fly and whirl day and night,
A gust of autumn wind whistles, and the mist ripples in chilling waves.
Ah, the fields, the hills, the familiar groves of slack woods,
Witnesses to my sorrows and my joys!
You are forgotten ...... only until the sweet spring comes again!
4, "Truth"
1816, Since ancient times, Homo sapiens have been searching for
the remains of those truths which have been obliterated by worldly events,
and they have spent a long time and discourses in paraphrasing
those ancient discourses of those who have gone before them.
They argued, "The naked truth is hidden in the depths of the well-spring."
So they drank a cup of water in quick relief,
and began to clamor, "I will find out the truth!"
But suddenly a man, who seemed to be the old man, Celine, blessed the earth,
saw their folly buried deep behind them,
and all that clear water and shouting bored him;
and so, stopping our breath from wandering,
the first thing that came to his mind was the wine, and he drank, and drank, and then there was not a drop left,
But saw the truth, in fact, buried in the bottom of the cup.
5. "The Countryside"
Bless you, corner of the wild and remote wilderness,
the place of idleness, of work and pleasure,
It is here that my days pass quietly by,
wallowing in the lapel of pleasure and forgetfulness.
I am thine, and I have forsaken the luxurious feasts,
the vain amusements, the labyrinths of women's voices,
only for the stillness of the fields, the harmonious music of the woods,
for the freedom of repose, the best of fancies to gallop.
I am yours:
I love this garden
Deep and cool, with all kinds of wild flowers in bloom,
I love this vast green field, overflowing with the fragrance of the heaps of grain,
Some clear brook babbling noisily through the trees.
Wherever I look, I see vivid images:
Here are two lakes, calm and wave-free,
On the turquoise water, the occasional flash of a fishing boat's white sails,
Behind the lakes are rolling hills, a strip of cropland,
and a sparse scattering of farmhouses in the distance.
On the damp shore of the lake, herds of cattle and sheep were roaming
The grainfields smoked lightly, and in the middle of the night whirled the windmills of the mills
Ah, everywhere there was the sight of labor and affluence.
I dwell here, free from worldly bondage,
I learn to search for joy in truth,
I worship the laws of nature with a free mind,
I no longer listen to the whispers of the obscurantist world,
I will answer the outpouring of the shy heart with sympathy,
and no longer envy the villain or the fool
in spite of what they may say. p>
Notwithstanding how they soar with iniquity.
It is here, O ancient prophets, that I ask you for counsel!
Here my abode is solemn and secluded,
and the high music of your consolations is clearer and more beautiful,
which has dispelled the dreams of my sorrow and lethargy,
which has enkindled the zeal of my work,
and, O, the thoughts of all your excellencies are growing in the depths of my heart.
Here I am, O ancient prophets, consulting with you.
A somber thought, however, is unsettling.
In the fields and hills of plenty
Who who cares for the destiny of mankind can see
without pity the heartbreaking sight of ignorance everywhere.
Here are the savage landlords, lawless and unfeeling,
as if it were their destiny to be the scourge of the people,
without regard to tears and pleas,
concerned with forcing the peasantry's property, their labor, and their time, with the whip of coercion, into their own hands.
There are the slaves who obeyed the merciless whips of the landowners, and the slaves who obeyed the merciless whips of the landowners, who obeyed the merciless whips of the landowners. Here the slave obeys the whip of the ruthless lord,
hunchbacked on someone else's plow, led by a rope, thin and weak.
Here, all men are yoked horses and oxen,
without hope, without the slightest pursuit of the heart,
here, even the youthful maiden's delicacy is only to be mercilessly destroyed.
The father's generation ages, and is succeeded by the next generation of sons
that agreeable beam and laborer,
who from the ancestral huts continually multiply
hordes of domestic servants, those tormented slaves.
Sniff, may my song strike a chord in one's heart!
Passion burns in my heart, but what good will it do?
Why did God not give me the talent to speak eloquently?
Oh, my friend! Will I one day see the
Tsar nod his head so that people will no longer be enslaved?
Can I see the
beautiful dawn of enlightenment and freedom finally rise on our soil?
6. "To Kern"
I remember that wonderful moment: there you appeared before me,
as a fleeting phantom, as a spirit of pure beauty.
In the torment of despairing sorrow, in the hauntings of noisy illusion,
The sound of your gentle voice rang long in my ears,
and I still see your lovely face in my sleep.
Many ages have passed. Raging passions
have dispersed the dreams of the past, and so I have forgotten your gentle voice,
and your heavenly face.
In the poor countryside, in the gloomy life of captivity,
My years faded away so quietly,
losing my gods, losing my inspiration,
losing my tears, losing my life, and losing my love.
Now the soul has begun to awaken: and so there you are again before me,
as a fleeting phantom, as a spirit of pure beauty.
My heart leaps in ecstasy, and for it all is awakened again,
with enchantment, with inspiration, with life, with tears, and with love.
7, "If life deceives you"
If life deceives you, do not be sad, do not be anxious!
Depressed days must be calm: believe, happy days will come!
The heart is always yearning for the future; the present is often melancholy.
All is transient, all will pass;
And that which is past will be dearly missed.
8. "The Winter Road"
Through the wave-like clouds there was revealed a bright, clear moon,
which forlornly poured out its clear light upon the bleak forest clearing.
A fast, three-set wagon sped down the winter, lonely road,
Ah, the monotonous ringing of the bell, ah, gave out a wearying acoustic.
In the long song of the coachman, some kindred voice could be heard echoing:
At one moment a hoary rapturous singing, at another a pouring out of heartfelt sadness ......
Neither lamps nor dark cottages were to be seen,
Everywhere there was a blanket of snow and desolation ...... I met along the way,
only the wooden stakes painted in stripes to mark the mileage ......
Loneliness, sorrow ......Tomorrow. Nina,
Tomorrow I shall not be able to return to my dear one,
I shall never tire of gazing at you, and forget everything by the fire.
The hour hand on the clock, with a ringing sound, completes its well-proportioned week,
Midnight makes the tiresome people go away, but nothing can break us up.
Sorrow, Nina: my journey was so lonely,
and my coachman was silent from sleepiness,
and only the bell was still ringing monotonously, and by this time the clouds had obscured the clear light of the moon.
9. "The Prisoner"
I sat behind the bars of a dank prison,
and a hawk-child
that had grown up in confinement was my melancholy companion; it fluttered its wings,
and pecked at the bloody food under the bars.
It pecked and discarded, and looked out the window again,
as if it felt the same trouble as I did.
It greeted me with a look and a squawk,
like it was going to say, "Let's fly away, it's time,
"We were free birds, let's fly away-
to that bright behind the dark clouds Mountains,
Fly there, to that blue cape,
Only the wind dances with joy ...... And I for company! ......"
10, "Ode to Freedom"
Go, get out of my sight, soft queen of Sisera!
Where art thou? To the thunder of the empire, O thou proud singer of freedom's bottom?
Come, tear away my laurels, and break the delicate, feeble harp... .....
I will sing freedom to the world, I will strike at the evils of the throne.
Point me to the noble footsteps of that glorious, Gaul,
You made him sing the hymn of bravery, and face glorious suffering without fear.
War cry! The world's despotic tyrants, the impermanent fate's temporary favor!
And you, prostrate slaves, hear, and cheer up and awaken!
Alas, wheresoever I look- Everywhere the lash, everywhere the iron palm,
For fatal insults of jurisprudence, the slave's feeble tearfulness oceans;
Everywhere the power of iniquity, in the thick gloom of prejudice
Enters the throne! -- by the genius of slavery, and a passion for glorious pestilence.
To see the head of empire, without the pains of the people pressed upon it,
That is only when divine liberty, and strong jurisprudence are united;
Only when jurisprudence protects all with a strong shield, and its sword
clenched by the hand of the faithful citizen, is swung over the head of equality, without mercy.
Only when the hand of justice takes sin, and swings it downward from its high place,
O this hand, it refuses to palliate a little, for the sake of greed, or fear.
O man in power! It is jurisprudence, not heaven, that has given you crowns and thrones,
and though you are exalted above the people, you should be governed by eternal jurisprudence.
Ah, misfortune, that is the misfortune of the nation, if jurisprudence be allowed to doze off indiscreetly;
if either the people or the emperor can play with jurisprudence!
About this I would have thee testify, oh martyr of illustrious faults,
that in the storms of the not too distant past the head of thy empire fell for the ancestors.
Witnessed by speechless progeny, Louis ascended to death with an uplifted head,
He draped the head that had deposed the crown on the bloody torture table of the bottom of perfidy;
Jurisprudence was silent-the people were silent, and the axe of sin landed......
So over the yoked Gaul was overlaid the purple robe of the villain.
I hate thee and thy throne, despotic tyrant and fiend!
I watch, with cruel delight, your overthrow, the death of your children and grandchildren.
Everyone will read on thy forehead, the mark of the people's curse,
Thou art the world's reproach to God, nature's shame, and earth's plague.
While the stars of the midnight sky, Twinkle on the shadowy Neva,
And the carefree head, weighed down by placid dreams, Sleeps quietly,
The pensive singer gazes on, The deserted relics of a tyrant,
A palace long abandoned, And luridly rests in the foggy colors.
He hears, too, behind the terrible walls of the palace, the palpitating pronouncement of Cleo,
Caligula's dying moment, clear before his eyes.
He saw it also: draped in scapulars and medals, a group of surreptitious planters went by,
drunk with wine and malice, full of pride and fear in their hearts.
The disloyal guards were silent, the high drawbridge fell silent,
In the darkness of the night, two palace doors, quietly opened by a paid mole .....
Oh, shameful! The atrocities of our time!
Like wild beasts, rejoicing Turkish soldiers!.....
The dishonorable blow lands ..... The crown-wearing villain dies.
Take this lesson, emperors: to-day neither punishment, nor praise,
Nor bloody prison, nor altar of God, shall be your true bulwark;
Let your heads first be bowed down in the trusty shade of jurisprudence,
such as it is that the liberty and peace of the people shall be the everlasting guard of the imperial throne.
11. "To the Sea"
Farewell, unbridled element!
Your turquoise-blue waves are before me, tossing and undulating for the last time,
Your lofty beauty shines brightly. Like a friend's mournful complaint,
Like his sonorous call at parting, your melancholy clamor, your urgent cry,
Echoed in my ears for the last time. The place my heart yearns for!
How many a time have I wandered along your shores, alone in quiet contemplation, beside myself,
full of sorrow for a long-cherished dream! How I love your lingering voice,
The low tones, the voice of the abyss, and the silence of your twilight,
And your fickle passions. The meek sails of the fishermen,
all protected by your will, skim boldly over the crests of your waves,
and when you are angry and hard to subdue, how many fishing boats are sunk.
How can I cast aside and disregard, your lonely hilly shores,
I bless you with joy: may the rolling swells of my poetic love
traverse the peaks and valleys of your waves! Thou expectest, thou callest - and I am bound;
The struggles of my mind are in vain; bewildered by the intensity of that passion,
I have only to stay on thy shore ......
Lamenting what? Where now is the path to which I
passionately aspire, unattached?
There is a place in your vastness that revives my sleeping heart.
A craggy wall, a glorious grave ......
There, how many precious thoughts
were steeped in an infinitely dismal dream; it was there that Napoleon slept.
He rested there in his misery. Close behind him, another genius,
like rolling thunder, hurtles away from us, another master of our thoughts.
He died long, and freedom lost its voice and wept, and he left the world his laurels.
Surge and run, stir up the storm: the sea, O sea, he saluted thee in his life!
Your image was embodied in him, your spirit was condensed in him,
Magnificent, melancholy, and far-reaching as you are,
Persistent and resilient as you are. O sea, the world is a void ......
Where will you lead me now? The same fate is everywhere on earth:
Wherever there is happiness, there is possession, either by education or by tyrants.
Farewell, sea! Your majesty and grandeur I shall remember fondly;
Your ramblings at twilight I shall long, long listen to ......
Your image fills my heart and mind, and towards the jungles and the quiet savagery,
I shall take with me your rocky outcrops, your harbors, the sound and waves of your water-shadowed waves.
12, "To Chataev"
Love, hope, calm glory, do not long deceive us,
It is the joys of youth that have perished like a dream, like a morning mist;
but the desire still burns within us, and under the weight of the brutal regime,
we are listening with anxious hearts to the the call of our motherland.
We endured the torment of expectation, waiting for that sacred time of freedom,
just as a young lover waits for that sincere date.
Now the fire of freedom burns within us,
Now the heart of our dedication to honor is not dead,
My friend, we want to present all the
good passions of our hearts to our fatherland!
Believe, comrade: the enchanting star of happiness
is about to rise and shoot its light, Russia is going to awaken from its slumber, and
on the ruins of the tyranny of despotism will be written the inscription of our names!