To Natasha poem – Alexander Pushkin

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

The crimson summer now grows pale;

Clear, bright days now soar away;

Hazy mist spreads through the vale,

As the sleeping night turns gray;

The barren cornfields lose their gold;

The lively stream has now turned cold;

The curly woods are gray and stark,

And the heavens have grown dark.

Where are you, my light, Natasha?

No one’s seen you, – I lament.

Don’t you want to share the passion

Of this moment with a friend?

You have not yet met with me

By the pond, or by our tree,

Though the season has turned late,

We have not yet had a date.

Winter’s cold will soon arrive

Fields will freeze with frost, so bitter.

In the smoky shack, a light,

Soon enough, will shine and glitter.

I won’t see my love, – I’ll rage

Like a finch, inside a cage,

And at home, depressed and dazed,

I’ll recall Natasha’s grace.

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