Muse poem – Alexander Pushkin

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

In my youth’s years, she loved me, I am sure.

The flute of seven pipes she gave in my tenure

And harked to me with smile — without speed,

Along the ringing holes of the reed,

I got to play with my non-artful fingers

The peaceful songs of Phrygian village singers,

And the important hymns, that gods to mortals bade.

>From morn till night in oaks’ silent shade

I diligently harked to the mysterious virgin;

Rewarding me, by chance, for any good decision,

And taking locks aside of the enchanting face,

She sometimes took from me the flute, such commonplace.

The reed became alive in consecrated breathing

And filled the heart with holiness unceasing.

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Poems in English 

• Is There A Power That Can Sustain And Cheer by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Invocation To The Earth, February 1816 by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Inside of King’s College Chapel, Cambridge by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Inscriptions Written with a Slate Pencil upon a Stone by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Inscriptions In The Ground Of Coleorton, The Seat Of Sir George Beaumont, Bart., Leicestershire by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Inscriptions For A Seat In The Groves Of Coleorton by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Influence of Natural Objects by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Indignation Of A High-Minded Spaniard by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Incident Characteristic Of A Favorite Dog by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• In The Pass Of Killicranky by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• In Due Observance Of An Ancient Rite by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• I Travelled among Unknown Men by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• I Know an Aged Man Constrained to Dwell by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• I Grieved For Buonaparte by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• How Sweet It Is, When Mother Fancy Rocks by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Hoffer by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Hint From The Mountains For Certain Political Pretenders by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Here Pause: The Poet Claims At Least This Praise by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Her Eyes Are Wild by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Hart-Leap Well by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth

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