Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
Pushkin as a child
Imperial Lyceum (Tsarskoe
A. A. Delvig
Selo)
G. R. Derzhavin
Recollections at Tsarskoe Selo
K.
G. R. Derzhavin
N. Batiushkov
Petersburg period
Pushkin's great-grandfather, Hannibal, the captive Abyssinian who became the personal servant of
Peter I
Pushkin's mother
Ruslan and Lyudmila
Southern poem
A Prisoner of the Caucasus
The
Southern poem
Fountain of Bakhchisarai
The
Gypsies
Boris Godunov
Poltava
Pushkin's father
N. N. Goncharova
Boldino
The
The
Eugene Onegin
Little Tragedies
Tales of Belkin
The Bronze Horseman
History of
Pugachev
The Captain's Daughter
Journey to Arzrum
D'Anthes
N. N. Goncharova
1.
1. A Little Bird
:
.
;
5
,
!
In a foreign land I faithfully observe
A native rite of olden times:
I liberate a little bird
During the shining fete of spring.
5My heart is filled with consolation,
How can I grumble at God's will
If to but one of his creations
I can bestow sweet liberty!
2.
2. Demon
,
,
,
,
5
,
,,
10
-
In bygone days when life's array The sweet song of the nightingale
And maidens' eyes, the rustling woods Still left a fresh impression on me,
5When loftiness of feeling,
And freedom, glory, love
Artistic inspiration
So deeply stirred my blood,
My times of hope were cast in shade
10And pleasure dimmed by longing,
For it was then an evil genius
.
:
,
,
15
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;
;
;
;
20
,
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Began to pay me secret visits.
Our meetings were quite dolorous:
His smile, his glance mysterious,
15His venom-filled and caustic sermons
Poured frozen poison in my soul.
With endless slandering remarks
He tempted Providence;
He claimed that beauty's but a dream;
20Felt scorn for inspiration;
He had no faith in love or freedom;
He looked on life with ridiculeAnd in the whole of nature
He did not wish to praise a single thing.
3.
3. The Coach of Life
,
;
,
,
,
.
;
,
,
:
!......
Although her load is sometimes heavy,
The coach moves at an easy pace;
The dashing driver, gray-haired time
Drives on, secure upon his box.
At dawn we gaily climb aboard her
We're ready for a crazy ride,
And scorning laziness and languor,
We shout: "Get on, there! Don't delay!'
;
;
;
:
,
!
;
.
But midday finds our courage wane,
We're shaken now: and at this hour
Both hills and dales inspire dread.
We shout: "Hold on, drive slower, fool!"
The coach drives on just as before;
By eve we are used to it,
And doze as we attain our inn.
While Time just drives the horses on.
Kern
4. ...
4. To...Kern
I still recall the wondrous moment
When you appeared before my eyes,
Just like a fleeting apparition,
Just like pure beauty's distillation.
:
,
,
.
5When'er I languished in the throes of
5
,
,
.
hopeless grief
Amid the troubles of life's vanity,
Your sweet voice lingered on in me,
Your dear face came to me in dreams.
.
Years passed. The raging, gusty storms
10Dispersed my former reveries,
And I forgot your tender voice,
Your features so divine.
,
10
,
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,
,
15
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:
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20
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In exile, in confinement's gloom,
My uneventful days wore on,
15Bereft of awe and inspiration
Bereft of tears, of life, of love.
My soul awakened once again:
And once again you came to me,
Just like a fleeting apparition
20Just like pure beauty's distillation.
My heart again resounds in rapture,
Within it once again arise
Feelings of awe and inspiration,
Of life itself, of tears, and love.
5.
5. The Prophet
,
,.
5
.
,
.
,:
,
Tormented by a spiritual thirst,
I stumbled through a gloomy waste,
And there a six-winged seraph
Appeared before me at the crossroad.
5With touch as light as slumber,
He laid his fingers on my eyes,
Which opened wide in prophecy
Just as a startled eagle's might.
Upon my ears his touch then fell,
And they were filled with noise and clangs:
I heard the heavens shift on high,
,
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,
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15
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20
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25
:
"
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30
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The whispering of angels' wings,
Sea monsters moving in the deep,
The growing grapevines in the vales.
15And then he bent down towards my
mouth,
My sinful tongue he ripped right outIts slander and its idle liesAnd with his bloody hand inserted
Between my still and lifeless lips
20A cunning serpent's forked tongue.
And with his sword he cleaved my breast
Removed my shaking heart,
And then he seized a blazing coal,
And placed it in my gaping breast.
25Corpse-like I lay upon the sand
And then God's voice called out to me:
"Arise, O Prophet, watch and hark,
Fulfill all my commands:
Go forth now over land and sea,
30And with your word ignite men's hearts.
Apollo
6.
6. Poet
,
;
;
,
,
,
.
Until he hears Apollo's call
To make a hallowed sacrifice,
A Poet lives in feeble thrall
To people's empty vanities;
And silent is his sacred lyre,
His soul partakes of chilly sleep,
And of the world's unworthy sons
He is, perhaps, the very least.
,
10
,
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,
,
15
;
,
,
,
,
20
...
But once Divinity's command
10Approaches his exquisite ear,
The poet's soul awakens, poised,
Just like an eagle stirred from sleep.
All worldly pleasures leave him cold,
From common talk he stays aloof,
15And will not lower his proud head
Before the nation's sacred cow.
Untamed and brooding, he takes flight,
Seething with sound and agitation,
To reach a sea-swept, desert shore,
20A woodland wide and murmuring...
1827
Arion
7.
7. Arion
;
,
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,
5
;
-
,...
...
10
,
!,
We were a crowd inside the boat
Some of us trimmed the sails,
While others gamely plunged
The mighty oars into the deep. While in the
calm,
5Our skillful helmsman, leaning to the
wheel,
Steered the craft without a word;
And I - abrim with carefree hope I sang to all the crew....A sudden gust
Then roared, and swept the ocean's breast . .
.
10The helmsman and the crew were lost!
And I alone, mysterious bard,
,
15
.
Was tossed upon the stormy shore
And sang my anthems as before
While spreading out my sodden robe
15To dry upon a sunny cliff.
1927
Aragva
8.
...
8. Upon the hills of Georgia...
;
.
;
;
,
5
,
...
,
,
-
,
Dark falls upon the hills of Georgia,
I hear Aragva's roar.
I'm sad and light, my grief - transparent,
My sorrow is suffused with you,
5With you, with you alone...My melancholy
Remains untouched and undisturbed,
And once again my heart ignites and loves
Because it can't do otherwise.
9.
...
9. I loved you once...
:
,
;
;
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,
5
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,
;
,
,
I loved you once: perhaps that love has yet
To die down thoroughly within my soul;
But let it not dismay you any longer;
I have no wish to cause you any sorrow.
5I loved you wordlessly, without a hope,
By shyness tortured, or by jealousy.
I loved you with such tenderness and candor
.
And pray God grants you to be loved that
way again.
10.
10. Talisman
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
.
Where the sea forever splashes
By a desolate rocky shore,
Where the moon more warmly glimmers
O'er the mellow twilight hours,
Where the Muslim in his harem
Spends his days in revelry,
There, a sorceress caressed me,
Handed me a talisman.
,
10"
,
:
.
With caresses she implored me:
10"Guard this talisman for me:
It contains mysterious power!
Love has given it to you.
It can spare your soul, my dear,
Not from illness nor the grave;
15Not from hurricanes or tempests
Will it offer you protection.
...
It will not bestow on you
Riches from the Eastern world,
Nor will Islam's acolytes
20Pledge themselves to you for it.
Home from melancholy foreign lands
From South to North
To the embrace of friends.
This my talisman won't rush you.
:
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,
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15
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20
;
,
,
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!
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,
,
!"
But whenever cunning eyes
Cast a sudden spell on you,
Or, in darkness lips conspire
To kiss you without any love,
Then, my dear, from such a crime From a fresh wound to the heart,
From betraying, from forgetting
My talisman will save you!"
1827
I
11.
11. Autumn
?
.
I
;
.
,
5
;
,
,
.
What doesn't enter then my slumbering mind?
-Derzhavin
I
October has arrived - the woods have tossed
Their final leaves from naked branches;
A breath of autumn chill - the road begins to
freeze,
The stream still murmurs as it passes by the
mill,
5The pond, however's frozen; and my
neighbor hastens
to his far-flung fields with all the members of
his hunt.
The winter wheat will suffer from this wild
fun,
And baying hounds awake the slumbering
groves.
II
III
II
:
II
This is my time: I am not fond of spring;
10The tiresome thaw, the stench, the mud spring sickens me.
The blood ferments, and yearning binds the
heart and mind..
With cruel winter I am better satisfied,
I love the snows; when in the moonlight
A sleigh ride swift and carefree with a
friend.
15Who, warm and rosy 'neath a sable
mantle,
Burns, trembles as she clasps your hand.
;
;
10
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;
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,
;
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,
15
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,
!
III
,
,
,
!
?..
;
20
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,
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III
What fun it is, with feet in sharp steel shod,
To skim the mirror of the smooth and solid
streams!
And how about the shining stir of winter
feasts? . .
20But in the end you must admit that naught
but snow
For half the year will even bore a bear
Deep in his den. We cannot ride for ages,
In sleighs with youthful nymphs
Or sulk around the stove behind storm
windows.
IV
V
IV
,
25
!
,
IV
25O, summer fair! I would have loved you,
too,
Except for heat and dust and gnats and flies.
You kill off all our mental power,
Torment us; and like fields, we suffer from
the drought;
To take a drink, refresh ourselves somehow
30We think of nothing else, and long for
lady Winter,
And, having bid farewell to her with
. pancakes and with wine,
We hold a wake to honor her with ice-cream
and with ice.
,
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30
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V
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35
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40
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V
. The latter days of fall are often cursed,
But as for me, kind reader, she is precious
35In all her quiet beauty, mellow glow.
Thus might a child, disfavored in its family,
, Draw my regard. To tell you honestly,
Of all the times of year, I cherish her alone.
She's full of worth; and I, a humble lover,
40Have found in her peculiar charms.
VI
VII
VI
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,
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,
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,
,
.
;
45
;
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,
.
VI
How can this be explained? I favor her
As you might one day find yourself attracted
To a consumptive maid. Condemned to
death,
The poor child languishes without complaint
or anger.
45A smile plays upon her withering lips;
She cannot sense as yet the gaping maw of
death;
A crimson glow still flits across her face.
Today she lives, tomorrow she is gone.
VII
!
!
50
,
,
,
,
55
,
.
VII
A melancholy time! So charming to the eye!
50Your beauty in its parting pleases me I love the lavish withering of nature,
The gold and scarlet raiment of the woods,
, The crisp wind rustling o'er their threshold,
The sky engulfed by tides of rippled gloom,
55The sun's scarce rays, approaching frosts,
And gray-haired winter threatening from
afar.
VIII
IX
VIII
;
;
:
,
60
;
,
,
,
VIII
When autumn comes, I bloom anew;
The Russian frost does wonders for my
health;
Anew I fall in love with life's routine:
60Betimes I'm soothed by dreams, betimes
by hunger caught;
The blood flows free and easy in my heart,
Abrim with passion; once again, I'm happy,
young,
I'm full of life - such is my organism
(Excuse me for this awful prosaism)
(
).
IX
65My horse is brought to me; in open field,
With flying mane, he carries fast his rider,
And with his shining hooves he hammers
out a song
Upon the frozen, ringing vale, and crackling
ice.
. But fleeting day dies out, new fire comes
alive
70Inside the long-forgotten stove-- it blazes
bright,
Then slowly smoulders - as I read before it,
Or nourish long and heartfelt thoughts.
IX
;
65
,
,
,
,
70
,
.
X
XI
Lo
XII
X
,
:
75
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,
,
X
And I forget the world - in silence sweet,
I'm sweetly lulled by my imagination,
75And poetry awakens deep inside:
My heart is churned with lyric agitation,
It trembles, moans, and strives, as if in sleep,
To pour out in the end a free statementAnd here they come - a ghostly swarm of
guests,
80My long-lost friends, the fruits of all my
dream.
,
,
80
.
XI
,
,
,
,
.
85
,
!
,
,
,
;
XI
My mind is overcome by dashing thoughts,
And rhymes come running eagerly to meet
them,
My hand demands a pen; the pen - a sheet of
paper.
Another minute - and my verse will freely
flow.
85Thus slumbers an immobile ship caught in
immobile waters,
But lo! - the sailors rush all of a sudden, crawl
Up top, then down - sails billow, filled with
wind;
The massive structure moves, and cuts the
waves.
.
XII
It sails. But whither do we sail?...
XII
.
?...
12.
12. Remembrance
,
;
,
,
,
,
,
Whene'er for mortal men the noisy day grows
still
And half-transparent shadows of the
,
night.
, And slumber, the reward of daily labors,
Sinks down upon the muted city
:
streets
That is the time of night for me, when silent
hours
;
Drag by in agonizing wakefulness:
During the idle night the sting of my heart's
serpent
;
Flames up in me more fervently;
Imagination boils: my mind, opppressed by
: yearning,
,
Plays host to a tormenting crowd of
,
thoughts;
,- Before my eyes, remembrance silently
,
,
,
,
,
,-
Draws out its lengthy scroll;
And I, repulsed, review the story of my life,
I shudder and I curse,
Weep bitter tears and bitterly complain,
But cannot wash the dismal lines
away.
1828
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