The Roussalka poem – Alexander Pushkin

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

A LEGEND OF THE WATER-SPRITE

In forest depths, beside a mere,

A monk once made his habitation ;

Absorbed in penances severe,

In fast and prayer he sought salvation.

Already by his own poor spade

His grave was hollowed to receive him,

And every day the good saint prayed

That Heaven from earth would soon relieve him.

One summer’s eve, the hermit poor,

At prayer within his narrow room,

Looked out beyond his humble door

And saw the forest wrapped in gloom ;

Night-mists were rising from the mere,

Between the clouds the moon ‘gan peep;

The monk unto the pool drew near

And gazed into its waters deep.

He saw himself-drew back perturbed

By fears he ne’er had known before ;

For, lo, the waters were disturbed,

Then suddenly grew calm once more ;

“While fitful as a twilight shade,

Than virgin snow more purely white,

From out the pool appeared a maid

Approaching in the silver light.

She shook the bright drops from her hair

And gazed upon the anchorite ;

To look upon her form so fair

The good monk trembled with affright.

And he beheld her from afar

With head and hand strange signals make,

Then swifter than a shooting star

Dive back into the silent lake.

All night the hermit could not sleep,

All day in agony he prayed ;

But still he could not choose but keep

The image of that wondrous maid

Before him. So, when day did wane,

And overhead the moon was bright,

He watched, and saw her come again

In all her beauty, dazzling white.

She beckoned to him where he stood,

And gave him greeting glad and free.

She played and splashed about the flood,

She laughed and danced in childish glee,

As softly to the monk she cried :

” Come hither, monk, and join me here!”

Then suddenly she dipped to hide

Her beauty in the darkling mere.

The third day came-grown mad with love,

The hermit sought th’ enchanted shore

Ere yet night’s veil was drawn above,

And waited for the maid once more.

Dawn broke-the monk had disappeared . . .

And now the frightened children say

He haunts the pool: and lo! his beard

Floats on the water night and day.

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Poems in English 

• Arrival by William Carlos Williams by William Carlos Williams
• April Is The Saddest Month by William Carlos Williams by William Carlos Williams
• Après le Bain by William Carlos Williams by William Carlos Williams
• Approach Of Winter by William Carlos Williams by William Carlos Williams
• A Sort Of A Song by William Carlos Williams by William Carlos Williams
• A Goodnight by William Carlos Williams by William Carlos Williams
• A Celebration by William Carlos Williams by William Carlos Williams
• Women And Roses by Robert Browning by Anglo File
• Venus, on a fur by Witty Fay by Anglo File
• Ultima Thule by William Ellery Leonard by Anglo File
• To the Victor by William Ellery Leonard by Anglo File
• The Image Of Delight by William Ellery Leonard by Anglo File
• The First Part: Sonnet 5 – How that vast heaven intitled First is roll’d, by William Drummond by Anglo File
• The First Part: Sonnet 4 – Fair is my yoke, though grievous be my pains, by William Drummond by Anglo File
• The First Part: Sonnet 3 – Ye who so curiously do paint your thoughts, by William Drummond by Anglo File
• The First Part: Sonnet 2 – I know that all beneath the moon decays by William Drummond by Anglo File
• The First Part: Sonnet 14 – Nor Arne, nor Mincius, nor stately Tiber, by William Drummond by Anglo File
• The First Part: Sonnet 13 – O sacred blush, impurpling cheeks’ pure skies by William Drummond by Anglo File
• The First Part: Sonnet 12 – Ah! burning thoughts, now let me take some rest, by William Drummond by Anglo File
• The First Part: Sonnet 11 – Lamp of heaven’s crystal hall that brings the hours, by William Drummond by Anglo File

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