Alexander Pushkin


I saw the Death, and she was seating By quiet entrance at my own home, I saw the doors were opened in my tomb, And there, and there my hope was a-flitting I'll die, and traces of my past In days of future will be never sighted, Look of my eyes will never be delighted By dear look, in my existence last. Farewell the somber world, where, precipice above, My gloomy road was a-streaming, Where life for me was never cheering, Where I was loving, having not to love! The dazzling heavens' azure curtain, Beloved hills, the brook's enchanting dance, You, mourn -- the inspiration's chance, You, peaceful shades of wilderness, uncertain, And all -- farewell, farewell at once. Translated by Yevgeny Bonver

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