“Confess to me, what’s wrong. You’re in dejection.”

- I love, my friend! - “Which lady holds you captive?”

- She does. - “Glisera? Chloe? Lila’s so attractive!”

- O, no! - “To whom do you submit your soul’s affection?”

- To her! - “You’re humble! Why all this remorse?

Why do you seem so sorrowful and grim?

And who’s to blame? Her fiancé, her dad, of course...”

- It isn’t that! - “Then what?” - For her, I can’t be him.
Alexander Pushkin
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A wish

My days still linger, slow and rough,

Each moment multiplies the sadness

Within the heart of hapless love

And drives my yearning into madness.

I’m silent; I don’t dare to breathe.

I weep, my tears are my salvation.

My soul, held captive in this grief,

In tears alone finds consolation.

No longer do I care if life goes by,

Its empty ghost will lastly set me free;

The sorrow of my love is dear to me--

If I die loving, then I pray let die!
Alexander Pushkin
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To friends

Today your gods do not deny you

These golden nights and golden days,

And gentle, fragile ladies eye you

With an attentive fervent gaze.

Play on, sing on, while you are blessed!

Squander away the fleeting night;

Through tears, I smile at the sight

Of your light-hearted happiness.
Alexander Pushkin
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-What’s new? “I tell you, nothing whatsoever.”

--Don’t fool with me: you’re hiding it, I know.

Oh, don’t you feel ashamed? you think you’re clever

To hide the news from me like from a foe?

Oh, tell me, brother, why? Inform me, I insist!

Don’t be so stubborn, give me just a clue...

“Oh, let me be, the only thing I know is this -

That you’re a fool, but that is nothing new.”
Alexander Pushkin
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Old man

I’m not that lover, filled with passion, -

That youth, who left the world amazed:

Alas, my spring and summer passed now,

And didn’t leave a single trace.

Cupid, the god of youth and love and virtue!

I used to be your steadfast servant;

Oh, if I could be reborn, - I’d serve you

Even more passionate and fervent!
Alexander Pushkin
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To Natasha

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.
Alexander Pushkin
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I have outlasted all desire... (ver. 2)

I have outlasted all desire,
My dreams and I have grown apart;
My grief alone is left entire,
The gleanings of an empty heart.
The storms of ruthless dispensation
Have struck my flowery garland numb-
I live in lonely desolation
And wonder when my end will come.
Thus on a naked tree-limb, blasted
By tardy winter's whistling chill,
A single leaf which has outlasted
Its season will be trembling still.
Alexander Pushkin
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I have endured my desire...

I have endured my desire,
I've ceased to love my fairy dreams,
And only fruit of hearty fire -
My sufferings have stayed, it seems.
And under storms of cruel kismet
My blooming spirit quickly died,
I waited for the end, I missed it.
I'm feeling loneliness inside.
So that enveloped by the blow
Of cold wind and stormy flaws
A leaf which is belated, sole,
Vibrates on bare branch in pause..
Alexander Pushkin
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I loved you and this love by chance...

I loved you and this love by chance,
Inside my soul has never fully vanished;
No longer shall it ever make you tense;
I wouldn't want to sadden you with anguish.

I loved you speechlessly and wildly,
By modesty and jealousy was stressed;
I loved you so sincerely, so mildly,
As, God permit, you may be loved by someone else.
Alexander Pushkin
Read in English and Russian