A poem by Alexander Pushkin – Pouchkine, Pooshkin (1799-1837), in English translation
FROM “EUGENE ONEGIN “
28
Yes, foes!-How many days, bethink you,
Since hatred stepped the two between,
And since in hours of thought and leisure,
At work, at table, they have been
As comrades! Now, with purpose dread,
Like men in mutual loathing bred,
Each plans, as though in broadest day
A heavy nightmare on him lay,
The other’s downfall in his heart.
Oh, could they smile but once, while still
Their hands are pure from deed of ill,
And then their sev’ral ways depart!
But worldly hate, like worldly fame,
Shrinks at the breath of worldly shame.
30
-Now, come together!
Calmly, coldly,
Not aiming yet, with haughty glance,
And tread assured and light, though measured,
The combatants four steps advance,
Four steps to death-whereon Eugene,
Still forward moving o’er the green,
(The other likewise) first began
To raise his weapon, fix his man. . . .
N ine steps now of the fateful quest
Were counted-Lensky, with a frown,
His left eye closed, took aim-when down
Oniegin’s thumb the trigger prest. . . .
Reverse the sand-glass!-Lensky sighed-
No more!-and let his pistol glide.
31
He sought his breast with clutching fingers-
He fell, his glance grew dim, and still
It spoke of death alone, not torment,
As when upon some eastern hill
All sparkling in the morning light,
The snow-wreath vanishes from sight.
Oniegin, suddenly a-cold
With horror, saw his shot had told.
He hastened-o’er the poet’s form
He stooped, he called his name-too late!
He was no more-untimely fate!
The flower had perished in the storm-
The music on the broken lyre,
And on the altar-stone, the fire!
32
And there he lay! How unfamiliar
Upon his brow the languid grace !
Beneath his breast the ball had pierced him,
The smoking blood ran down apace,
Thence, where, a few brief moments past,
The pulse of life was bounding fast,
Where hate and hope and love were strong,
And warm emotions wont to throng.
The heart is now a house bereft
Of former inmates-every floor
Is dark and still for evermore,
With dusty panes. The host has left;
And whither went he ? Who shall say ?
His very trace is swept away.
33
To write an epigram, a sharp one,
Your stupid foe to irritate,
Is very nice. To see him lower
His sullen horns, still obstinate,
And, nolens volens, in the glass
With shame behold himself and pass.
Twere nicer still (the fool!), should he
Stand there and gape-” ‘Tis meant for me!”
And silently to dig your foe
An honoured grave, to aim with care-
Your mark, the pallid forehead there,
A generous distance off-we know,
Is nicest . But to see him fall
And lie, is scarcely nice at all!
34
We’ll just suppose, my friend, your pistol Has stretched a young acquaintance dead-
Because of forward look or answer,
Because some idle thing he said
Had stung you o’er the wine last night,
Or even called you out to fight
Himself in boyish anger-well,
What kind of feeling, pray you, tell,
Came o’er you with a whelming rush,
When laid before you on the ground,
Without a motion or a sound,
He stiffens in the sudden hush ?
When dumb, with blinded stare, he lies,
Stone-deaf to your despairing cries ?
A few random poems:
- The Prodigal Son by Rudyard Kipling
- The Scythians poem – Aleksandr Blok poems | Poetry Monster
- Heart of God by Vachel Lindsay
- Thou Art Indeed Just, Lord, If I Contend poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems
- Love Sonnet XLIX poem – Zora Bernice May Cross poems
- One Lovely Name by Walter Savage Landor
- Tatiana’s Letter poem – Alexander Pushkin
- Sonet 36 by William Alexander
- Омар Хайям – Не смешно ли весь век по копейке копить
- Владимир Набоков – Стансы (Ничем не смоешь подписи косой)
- Вера Павлова – Вергилий в предсмертном бреду
- Владимир Домрин – Якутия
- Unapologetic by Vikrant Sapkota
- On the Circuit by W. H. Auden
- create.html
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- Николай Языков – Песня (Когда умру, смиренно совершите)
- Николай Языков – Песня (Дороже почестей и злата)
- Николай Языков – Песня (Всему человечеству)
- Николай Языков – Песни (Счастлив, кому судьбою дан)
- Николай Языков – Песни (Мы любим шумные пиры)
- Николай Языков – Песни (Душа героев и певцов)
- Николай Языков – Песнь баяна (Люблю смотреть на месяц ясной)
- Николай Языков – Переезд через приморские Альпы
- Николай Языков – П. В. Киреевскому (Ты крепкий, праведный стоятель)
- Николай Языков – П. Н. Шепелеву (Ты мой приятель задушевной)
- Николай Языков – Элегия (Поденщик, тяжело навьюченный дровами)
- Николай Языков – Элегия (Ночь безлунная звездами)
- Николай Языков – Элегия (Мне ль позабыть огонь и живость)
- Николай Языков – Элегия (Любовь, любовь! веселым днем)
- Николай Языков – Элегия (Есть много всяких мук – и много я их знаю)
- Николай Языков – Элегия (День ненастный, темный; тучи)
- Николай Языков – Элегии (Свободен я: уже не трачу)
- Николай Языков – Элегии (Скажи: когда)
- Николай Языков – Елагиной
- Николай Языков – Е. Н. Мандрыкиной (В младой груди моей о вас воспоминанья)
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Alexander Pushkin (1799-1937) was a Russian poet, playwright and prose writer, founder of the realistic trend in Russian literature, literary critic and theorist of literature, historian, publicist, journalist; one of the most important cultural figures in Russia in the first third of the 19th century.