The Water-Nymph poem – Alexander Pushkin

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

In lakeside leafy groves, a friar

Escaped all worries; there he passed

His summer days in constant prayer,

Deep studies and eternal fast.

Already with a humble shovel

The elder dug himself a grave –

As, calling saints to bless his hovel,

Death; nothing other; did he crave.

So once, upon a falling night, he

Was bowing by his wilted shack

With meekest prayer to the Almighty.

The grove was turning slowly black;

Above the lake a mist was lifting;

Through milky clouds across the sky

The ruddy moon was softly drifting,

When water drew the friar’s eye…

He’s looking puzzled, full of trouble,

Of fear he cannot quite explain,

He sees the waves begin to bubble

And suddenly grow calm again.

Then — white as first snow in the highlands,

Light-footed as nocturnal shade,

There comes ashore, and sits in silence

Upon the bank, a naked maid.

She eyes the monk and brushes gently

Her hair, and water off her arms.

He shakes with fear and looks intently

At her, and at her lovely charms.

With eager hand she waves and beckons,

Nods quickly, smiles as from afar

And shoots, within two flashing seconds,

Into still water like a star.

The glum old man slept not an instant;

All day, not even once he prayed:

Before his eyes still hung and glistened

The wondrous, the relentless shade…

The grove puts on its gown of nightfall;

The moon walks on the cloudy floor;

And there’s the maiden; pale, delightful,

Reclining on the spellbound shore.

She looks at him, her hair she brushes,

Blows airy kisses, gestures wild,

Plays with the waves; caresses, splashes –

Now laughs, now whimpers like a child,

Moans tenderly, calls louder, louder…

“Come, monk, come, monk! To me, to me!..”

Then; disappears in limpid water,

And all is silent instantly…

On the third day the zealous hermit

Was sitting by the shore, in love,

Awaiting the delightful mermaid,

As shade was covering the grove…

Dark ceded to the sun’s emergence;

Our monk had wholly disappeared –

Before a crowd of local urchins,

While fishing, found his hoary beard.

translated by: Genia Gurarie

email: egurarie@princeton.edu

http://www.princeton.edu/~egurarie/

Copyright ©: 
Genia Gurarie

Poetry Monster – Home

A few random poems:

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 

• 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

More external links (open in a new tab):

Russian Commerce Agency

Dealing Monster

Doska or the Board – write anything

Search engines:

Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)

Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.

Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees

Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.

Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

Parallel Translations of Poetry

Poems by Author and Category

The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works