Goblins Of The Steppes poem – Alexander Pushkin

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

Stormy clouds delirious straying,

Showers of whirling snowflakes white,

And the pallid moonbeams waning–

Sad the heavens, sad the night!

Further speeds the sledge, and further,

Loud the sleighbell’s melody,

Grewsome, frightful ’tis becoming,

‘Mid these snow fields now to be!

Hasten! “That is useless, Master,

Heavier for my team their load,

And my eyes with snow o’er plastered

Can no longer see the road!

Lost all trace of our direction,

Sir, what now? The goblins draw

Us already round in circles,

Pull the sledge with evil claw!

See! One hops with frantic gesture,

In my face to grin and hiss,

See! It goads the frenzied horses

Onward to the black abyss!

In the darkness, like a paling

One stands forth,–and now I see

Him like walking-fire sparkling–

Then the blackness,–woe is me!”

Stormy clouds delirious straying,

Showers of snowflakes whirling white,

And the pallid moonbeams waning–

Sad the heavens, sad the night!

Sudden halt the weary horses,

Silent too the sleighbells whirr–

Look! What crouches on the ground there?

“Wolf,–or shrub,–I know not, Sir.”

How the wind’s brood rage and whimper!

Scenting, blow the triple team;

See! One hops here! Forward Driver!

How his eyes with evil gleam!

Scarce controllable the horses,

How the harness bells resound!

Look! With what a sneering grimace

Now the spirit band surround!

In an endless long procession,

Formless, countless of their kind

Circle us in flying coveys

Like the leaves in Autumn wind.

Now in ghastly silence deathly,

Now with shrilling elfin cry–

Is it some mad dance of bridal,

Or a death march passing by?

Stormy clouds delirious straying

Showers of snowflakes whirling white,

And the pallid moonbeams waning–

Sad the heavens, sad the night!

Cloudward course the evil spirits

In unceasing phantom bands,

And their moaning and bewailing

Grip my heart with icy hands!

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Poems in English 

• Leto and Niobe by Sappho by Sappho Σαπφώ
• It’s no use by Sappho by Sappho Σαπφώ
• It was you, Atthis, who said by Sappho by Sappho Σαπφώ
• It is the Muses by Sappho by Sappho Σαπφώ
• It is the Muses by Sappho by Sappho Σαπφώ
• I took my lyre and said by Sappho by Sappho Σαπφώ
• I have no complaint by Sappho by Sappho Σαπφώ
• Hymn To Aphrodite by Sappho by Sappho Σαπφώ
• Hesperus The Bringer by Sappho by Sappho Σαπφώ
• He is more than a hero by Sappho by Sappho Σαπφώ
• He is more than a hero by Sappho by Sappho Σαπφώ
• Grace by Sappho by Sappho Σαπφώ
• Like the gods. . . by Sappho by Sappho Σαπφώ
• To A Girl In A Garden by Sappho by Sappho Σαπφώ
• Evening by Sappho by Sappho Σαπφώ
• Drapple-thorned Aphrodite, by Sappho by Sappho Σαπφώ
• Dica by Sappho by Sappho Σαπφώ
• Cyprian, in my dream by Sappho by Sappho Σαπφώ
• Claïs by Sappho by Sappho Σαπφώ
• Blame Aphrodite by Sappho by Sappho Σαπφώ

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