A poem by Alexander Pushkin – Pouchkine, Pooshkin (1799-1837), in English translation


A magic moment I remember:

I raised my eyes and you were there,

A fleeting vision, the quintessence

Of all that’s beautiful and rare

I pray to mute despair and anguish,

To vain the pursuits world esteems,

Long did I hear your soothing accents,

Long did your features haunt my dreams.

Time passed. A rebel storm-blast scattered

The reveries that once were mine

And I forgot your soothing accents,

Your features gracefully divine.

In dark days of enforced retirement

I gazed upon grey skies above

With no ideals to inspire me

No one to cry for, live for, love.

Then came a moment of reinessance,

I looked up – you again are there

A fleeting vision, the quintessence

Of all that’s beautiful and rare

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Александр Пушкин