Alexander Pushkin

The Burned Letter

Farewell, Letter of Love! farewell: it’s her desire. How long did I delay! How long refused, in ire, I to destroy the single joy of mine!... Enough! The time has come. Burn, scripts of love divine. I’m ready; nothing else can call for my sad soul… Now the greedy flame is touching its form whole… A minute!… it is flamed and blazing – smoke, light, With my bitter laments, is flying of my sight. And now the ring’s stamp forfeited its form previous – It’s boiling – the seal wax… O, Providence of Heavens! That’s all! The letter’s leaves are twisted, now black; On their light ashes their well known track Is whitening… My heart is squeezed. Oh, dear ashes, In my sad destiny, my poor consolations, Forever lie on breast, so fully, fully wracked… Translated by Yevgeny Bonver

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