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Alexander Pushkin

Alexander Pushkin Biography

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“So meanwhile, friends, enjoy your blessing: This fragile life that hurries so! Its worthlessness needs no professing, And I'm not loathe to let it go; I've closed my eyes to phantoms gleaming, Yet distant hopes within me dreaming Still stir my heart at times to flight: I'd grieve to quit this world's dim light And leave no trace, however slender. I live, I write - not seeking fame; And yet, I think, I'd wish to claim For my sad lot its share of splendour— At least one note to linger long, Recalling, like some friend, my song.”

LossFameMemory
Book:Eugene Onegin
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“Whoever you be, O my reader- friend, foe- I wish with you to part at present as a pal. Farewell. Whatever you in my wake sought in these careless strophes- tumultuous recollections, relief from labors, live pictures or bons mots, or faults of grammar- God grant that you, in this book, for recreation, for the daydream, for the heart, for jousts in journals, may find at least a crumb. Upon which, let us part, farewell!”

ReaderGoodbyeFarewellEnding
Book:Eugene Onegin
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“How sad, however, if we're given Our youth as something to betray, And what if youth in turn is driven To cheat on us, each hour, each day, If our most precious aspirations, Our freshest dreams, imaginations In fast succession have decayed, As leaves, in putrid autumn, fade. It is too much to see before one Nothing but dinners in a row, Behind the seemly crowd to go, Regarding life as mere decorum, Having no common views to share, Nor passions that one might declare.”

AgeYouth
Book:Eugene Onegin
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“The noontide of my life is starting, Which I must needs accept, I know; But oh, my light youth, if we're parting, I want you as a friend to go! My thanks to you for the enjoyments, The sadness and the pleasant torments, The hubbub, storms, festivity, For all that you have given me; My thanks to you. I have delighted In you when times were turbulent, When times were calm... to full extent; Enough now! With a soul clear-sighted I set out on another quest And from my old life take a rest. Let me glance back. Farewell, you arbours Where, in the backwoods, I recall Days filled with indolence and ardours And dreaming of a pensive soul. And you, my youthful inspiration, Keep stirring my imagination, My heart's inertia vivify, More often to my corner fly. Let not a poet's soul be frozen, Made rough and hard, reduced to bone And finally be turned to stone In that benumbing world he goes in, In that intoxicating slough Where, friends, we bathe together now.”

AgePoetryYouth
Book:Eugene Onegin
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“Love is for every age auspicious, But for the virginal and young Its impulses are more propitious Like vernal storms on meadows sprung: They freshen in the rain of passion, Ripening in their renovation – And life, empowered, sends up shoots Of richest blooms and sweetest fruits. But at a late age, dry and fruitless, The final stage to which we’re led, Sad is the trace of passions dead: Thus storms in autumn, cold and ruthless, Transform the field into a slough, And strip the trees from root to bough.”

LoveAgeYouth
Book:Eugene Onegin
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“Нравственные поговорки бывают удивительно полезны в тех случаях, когда мы от себя мало что можем выдумать себе в оправдание.”

MoralityMulticulturalTragicomedyTime Saving
Book:Повести Белкина (сборник): Выстрел, Метель, Гробовщик, Станционный смотритель, Барышня-крестьянка
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“É triste pensar que a mocidade É um prêmio que nos foi dado em vão, Que ela nos iludiu, na verdade, E nós lhe pagamos com traição; Que os nossos melhores desejos, Que os nossos sonhos, num lampejo, Viraram cinzas, murchas e tortas, Como folhas pelo outono mortas. É insuportável olhar para a frente E só ver um banquete infinito, Ver na vida um árido rito, Seguir com ar solene essa gente, Sem compartilhar opiniões Nem ódios nem dores nem paixões.”

PoesiaLiteratura Clássica
Book:Eugene Onegin
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“With belles no longer did he fall in love, but dangled after them just anyhow; when they refused, he solaced in a twinkle; when they betrayed, was glad to rest. He would seek them without intoxication, while he left them without regret, hardly remembering their love and spite. Exactly thus does an indifferent guest drive up for evening whist: sits down; then, once the game is over, he drives off from the place, at home falls peacefully asleep, and in the morning does not know himself where he will drive to in the evening.”

LovePeaceSleepIndifference
Book:Eugene Onegin
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“There yet remains but one concluding tale, And then this chronicle of mine is ended - Fulfilled, the duty God ordained to me, A sinner. Not without purpose did the Lord, Put me to witness much for many years, And educate me in the love of books. One day some indefatigable monk, Will find my conscientious, unsigned work; Like me, he will light up his ikon-lamp, And, shaking from the scroll the age-old dust, He will transcribe these tales in all their truth.”

YearsBookLightAgePurposeLordMinesDutyOne DayRemainsTalesLike MeDustWitnessSinnerEducateFulfilledLampsMonkShakingLight UpChroniclesConcluding
Author:Alexander Pushkin
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“I have outlasted all desire, My dreams and I have grown apart; My grief alone is left entire, The gleamings 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.”

HeartStillsEndsDreamDesireLeftGriefWonderTreeLonelyEmptySeasonsWinterStormNakedLeafsLimbsChillRuthlessNumbTremblingDesolationGarlandsWhistlingEmpty HeartTree Limbs
Author:Alexander Pushkin
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“I've lived to bury my desires and see my dreams corrode with rust now all that's left are fruitless fires that burn my empty heart to dust. Struck by the clouds of cruel fate My crown of Summer bloom is sere Alone and sad, I watch and wait And wonder if the end is near. As conquered by the last cold air When Winter whistles in the wind Alone upon a branch that's bare A trembling leaf is left behind.”

IfsHeartEndsDreamLastsDesireLeftWaitingBehindsWonderWatchesFireFateAirWindColdSummerEmptyWinterCloudsDustBranchesCrownsLeafsLeft BehindTremblingRustEmpty HeartCold AirEnd Is NearCruel Fate
Author:Alexander Pushkin
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