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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• 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
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• 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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