Alexander Pushkin

I Went Through All My

I went through all my former wishes, I stopped to love my former dreams; In my poor soul stays affliction -- Result of empty-heart disease. Under the fate's fiendish tempests, My wreath of flowers had waned -- I live alone with my sadness, And wait: when will come my end? Like, when a snowstorm is whistling, Alone, on the bare twigs, The latest leaf is sadly twisting Under the cold's deadly stings. Translated by Yevgeny Bonver

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