Alexander Pushkin


I'm sitting by bars in the damp blackened cell -- The juvenile eagle, who's bred by the jail, My mournful friend, with his wings stretching wide, Is picking at bloody food right by my side. He’s picking and looking at me through the bars, Like having a thought that is common to us, Like calling to me with a glance and a sight, And wanting to say, "Let us fly outside! We're free proud birds; it is time for the friends To fly to the white of the rock in a haze, To fly to the blue of the sea and the sky, Where evenly dwell only tempests ... and I!" Translated by Yevgeny Bonver Captive Trapped behind bars, in dampness I dwell. A young-hearted eagle brought up in a cell, My dejected companion, under the frame, Continues to peck at the red, bloody game, He pecks at it, flings it and then, looks outside, As if we have reached a consensus by sight. He summons me then with a look and a cry, — He wants to pronounce: «Away, let us fly! We're born to be free, let’s leave, friend, it’s time! Where, through the clouds, the mountains shine, Where azure seas rush to merge with the sky, Where only the wind dares to wander....and I!...» Translated by Andrey Kneller

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