Alexander Pushkin

The Tempest

Who saw the maiden on the rock -- Closed in white -- and waves around, When, in the stormy darkness locked, The sea was playing with the ground? When she was every minute lit By scarlet lights in thunder’s rattle, And wind was ravishing and swift In crazy flight with her white mantle? The sea is beautiful, when rocks, And skies -- with flashes, void of azure; But, Lord! The maiden on the rock Was more beautiful than nature! Translated by Yevgeny Bonver

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