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 

• Sonnet 94: They that have power to hurt and will do none by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 93: So shall I live, supposing thou art true by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 92: But do thy worst to steal thy self away by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 91: Some glory in their birth, some in their skill by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 90: Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 8: Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly? by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 89: Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 88: When thou shalt be disposed to set me light by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 87: Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 86: Was it the proud full sail of his great verse by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 85: My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 84: Who is it that says most, which can say more by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 83: I never saw that you did painting need by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 82: I grant thou wert not married to my Muse by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 81: Or I shall live your epitaph to make by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 80: O, how I faint when I of you do write by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 7: Lo, in the orient when the gracious light by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 79: Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 78: So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 77: Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare

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