Alexander Pushkin

The Cloud

The last one of clouds of scattered a tempest, Just single you’re flying in azure, the prettiest, Just single you’re bringing the sorrowful shade, Just single you’re saddening day that is glad. In nearest past, you were storming skies, mighty, And were quite enwind by the powerful lightning, And you were the womb for divine thunders birth, And quenching with rain the insatiable earth. Enough, now vanish! Your time is not endless - The earth is refreshed and away gone the tempest; And now the wind, fondling leaves of the trees, With pleasure is driving you out the sky bliss. Translated by Yevgeny Bonver Storm-cloud O storm-cloud, the tempest's survival, alone Like mad do you rush o'er the heavenly dome; Alone do you cast as you drift on your way A dark, brooding shade on the jubilant day. A short while ago you lay cloaking the sky, And great forks of lightning flared round you on high. You thundered and roared over forest and plain And fed thirsting earth with a bounty of rain. Enough! Make you haste! Do not tarry... Begone! The earth is refreshed, and the rain-storm has flown, And tame though the wind is, it stubbornly tries To make you desert the now radiant skies. Translated by Irina Zheleznova

Don't have an account?

You will be identified by the alias - name will be hidden