Solitude
He's blessed, who lives in peace, that's distant
From the ignorant fobs with calls,
Who can provide his every instance
With dreams, or labors, or recalls;
To whom the fate sends friends in score,
Who hides himself by Savior's back
From bashful fools, which lull and bore,
And from the impudent ones, which wake.
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Old Man
I’m not that lover, filled with passion, -
That youth, who left the world amazed:
Alas, my spring and summer passed now,
And didn’t leave a single trace.
Cupid, the god of youth and love and virtue!
I used to be your steadfast servant;
Oh, if I could be reborn, - I’d serve you
Even more passionate and fervent!
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Wish
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!
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Dream
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.
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Eastern Song
I think that thou wert born for this—
To set the poet's vision burning,
To hold him in a trance of bliss,
And by sweet words to wake his yearning:
To charm him by those eyes that shine,
By that strange Eastern speech of thine,
And by thy feet—those tiny treasures!
Ah! thou wert born for languid pleasures
And glowing hours of bliss divine!
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
I Loved You
I loved you, and I probably still do,
And for a while the feeling may remain...
But let my love no longer trouble you,
I do not wish to cause you any pain.
I loved you; and the hopelessness I knew,
The jealousy, the shyness - though in vain -
Made up a love so tender and so true
As may God grant you to be loved again.
Translated by Genia Gurarie, 11/10/95
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
May 26, 1828
Gift haphazard, unavailing,
Life, why were thou given me?
Why art thou to death unfailing
Sentenced by dark destiny?
Who in harsh despotic fashion
Once from Nothing called me out,
Filled my soul with burning passion
Vexed and shook my mind with doubt?
I can see no goal before me;
Empty heart and idle mind.
Life monotonously o'er me
Roars, and leaves a wound behind.
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Curious
--What’s new? “I tell you, nothing whatsoever.”
--Don’t fool with me: you’re hiding it, I know.
Oh, don’t you feel ashamed? you think you’re clever
To hide the news from me like from a foe?
Oh, tell me, brother, why? Inform me, I insist!
Don’t be so stubborn, give me just a clue...
“Oh, let me be, the only thing I know is this -
That you’re a fool, but that is nothing new.”
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Morpheus
Oh, Morpheus, give me joy till morning
For my forever painful love:
Just blow out candles' burning
And let my dreams in blessing move.
Let from my soul disappear
The separation's sharp rebuke!
And let me see that dear look,
And let me hear voice that dear.
And when will vanish dark of night
And you will free my eyes at leaving,
Oh, if my heart would have a right
To lose its love till dark of evening!
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Night
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!
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!