Nastya- Could you recommend some Pushkin poetry?
The only work of his I can find in bookstores is "Eugene Onegin," has anyone read it?
Onegin is called The Encyclopedia of Russian Live, but it's really hard to 'find' everything there, even for Russian readers. if not for my teacher I doubt I would have understood the half of it, but still we studied it two years ago.. I wasn't ready for that kind of reading back then. But it's good, when i re-read it, i liked it much more. Remember the whole Tatiana?s letter by heart.. And some quotes. Millions of quotes, which we use every day are from there.
for example, about Moscow. "Moscow, how many strains are fussing from that one sound in Russian heart.." of course the English translation is pretty 'longish', and not that ?strains-fussing?, but still..
As for poetry ? I?ve picked the most famous ones.. if anybody would like to read more, I can post more.. with Pushkin quantity is not a problem, though quality isn?t either!
A wish My days still linger, slow and rough
Each moment multiplies the sadness
Within the heart of hapless love
Disturbing all the hopes of madness
I'm silent; not a word I breathe.
I weep, my tears -- my consolation
My soul, held captive by the grief
Still finds delight in this sensation.
No longer do I care if life goes by,
O, hollow phantom into darkness flee;
The sorrow of my love is dear to me--
If I die loving, then I pray let die!
To *** I still remember that amazing moment
You have appeared before my sight
As though a brief and fleeting omen,
Pure phantom in enchanting light.
Locked in depression's hopeless captive,
In haste of clamorous processions,
I heard your voice-- soft and attractive.
And dreamt of your beloved expressions.
Time passed. In gusts, rebellious and active,
A tempest scattered my affections
And I forgot your voice attractive,
Your sacred and divine expressions.
Detained in darkness, isolation,
My days would slowly drag in strife.
With lack of faith and inspiration,
With lack of tears, and love and life.
My soul attained its waking moment:
You re-appeared before my sight,
As though a brief and fleeting omen,
Pure phantom in enchanting light.
And now, my heart, in fascination
Beats rapidly and finds revived:
Devout faith and inspiration,
And tender tears and love and life.
I loved you... 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 and so mildly,
As, God permit, may love you someone else.
To *** Don't ask me why alone in dismal thought
In times of mirth, I'm often filled with strife,
And why my weary stare is so distraught,
And why I don't enjoy the dream of life;
Don't ask me why my soul has slowly perished
And ceased to love the love that pleased me then
No longer can I call someone "my cherished"--
Who once has loved will never love again;
Who once felt bliss will never feel its essence,
A moment's happiness is all that we receive:
From youth, prosperity and joyful pleasance
All that is left is apathy and grief...
The Tenth Commandment Don't covet goods of other beings --
My Goodness, You've commanded so;
The limits of my will You know --
Am I to manage tender feelings?!
I wish not to offend my friend,
His village I do not desire,
And for his steer I don't aspire,
I'm gazing at it with content:
His men, his house and his cattle,
I'm tempted not, though all is great.
But let's imagine that his maid
Is beautiful... I've lost the battle!
And if by chance his lady's pretty
And gifted with an angel's skin
Then God forgive me for my sin
Of being envious and greedy!
Who can command a heart like this?
Who is a slave to feeble effort?
Not love a person who is revered?--
Who can resist the heaven's bliss?
I sigh from sadness and perceive,
But I must honor my conviction,
Afraid to flatter heart's ambition,
I'm silent... and alone I grieve.
*** Oh what a night! The frost is creaking,
Across the sky no clouds are creeping;
The bluish dome, -- a knitted shade,
Is dazzled with the frequent stars.
All homes are dark. And every gate
Is safely locked with bolts and bars.
In people peacefulness' conveyed.
The noisy market now is calm,
The guarding dog just barks alone,
And with the loud chains it rumbles.
While all of Moscow's dead in slumber,
The restlessness of fear forgetting.
The square, in murkiness of night,
Stands filled with yesterday's beheading.
The torture's imprints still abide:
Where yesterday a man was struck,
Where there are pitchforks, where there are
The cooled off cauldrons filled with tar;
Where there's a tumbled over block;
The metal teeth are sticking out,
And bones with ashes are consumed,
Upon the stakes, above the ground,
Dead bodies darken from the fume...
Not long ago, the blood was sliding
Pigmenting snow along the way
And languid moans were rising, rising,
But death embraced them, tranquilizing,
And overtook her easy prey.
Who's there? Whose horse is it that's speeding
Across the risky square in flight?
Whose blaring whistle, loud speaking
Is heard in twilight of the night?
Who's he? -A slayer full of greed.
He gallops, hurries to his date,
By his desire made irate
He pleads: "My valiant, intrepid steed,
Fly like an arrow at full speed!
Oh faster, faster!..." The ardent horse
Just swung its mane, abruptly paused
And stopped. Between the posts
Upon the long and wooden crossbeam,
A corpse was swaying. And the horseman
Was ready to advance and cross,
But for some reason under lashes
The steed just sniffs and snorts and rushes
Back. "Where to?! Ahead, ahead!
What is with you! What is to dread?
Just yesterday, right here we'd ride,
Wasn't it us who stomped with pride,
Inflamed with vengeance from afar,
The evil traitors of the czar?
It was their blood that we would use
To wash and clean your steely hoofs!
Have you forgotten all in spite?
My daring steed, this is your course
Now gallop, fly..." The tired horse
Under the corpse would slowly ride.
*** My friend, forgotten are the fleeting era's prints
Forgotten is my youth's uprising flow
Don't question me on what I'm lacking since,
On what I felt in the times of joy and woe,
On what I loved, on how I was forlorn
I've yet to taste true joy, -- that is inborn;
But you are innocent! conceived for only bliss
Believe in it and seize each moment's portion
Your soul was made for friendship and devotion,
A passionate and loving kiss.
Your soul is pure and unexposed to sadness
Your conscience is as bright as any day
Why then perceive the lunacy and madness
Of the uninteresting hearsay?
It will replace your peace with aggravation
You'll tremble with your heart and cry in bed
Your soul will lose its trust in agitation
And you, perhaps... my love may grow to dread
Who knows? perhaps forever... No, my dear
I fear to cast the only joy away
Don't ask for dangerous confessions here
Today I love, I'm happy for today.
*** I've lived to see desire vanish,
With hope I've slowly grown to part,
And I am left with only anguish,
The fruit of emptiness at heart.
Under the storms of merciless fate
My thriving garland withered lies--
In sadness, lonesome, I await:
How far away is my demise?
Thus, conquered by a tardy frost,
Through gale's whistling and shimmer,
Late, on a naked limb exposed
A lonesome leaf is left to quiver...
*** Alas! How come she's glimmering
With temporary, charming vibe?
It's evident that she is withering
While youth is blossoming with life...
Soon she will fade! Life of delight
Not very long she has to treasure;
And not for long will she provide
Her happy family with pleasure.
Her mellow wit will not abide
To energize our conversations
And with her soul, she won't subside
The sufferer's lamentations.
I hurry, still distraught in thought,
Concealing all of my dejection,
To catch her every cheerful word
And to delight in her perfection.
I watch her move, with admiration,
Perceive each sound from her soul
From every moment's separation
My tender heart becomes appalled.
*** Oh blazing Muse of pure satire!
Come forth on my inviting call!
I do not need the blatant lyre,
Give me the scourge of Juvenal!
And neither lifeless imitators
Nor hungry, gluttonous translators,
Nor rhymesters who don't relate,
With epigrams shall I abate!
Peace to the poets, poor creators,
Peace to the journal's adulators,
Peace to the fools who have been tamed!
But rascals, you I'll put to shame,--
Come forth you villains, don't resist!
And everyone I'll punished then
But if by chance one I shall miss,
Please do remind me, gentlemen!
How many faces -- shameless-pale,
How many forehands -- dull and stale,
From me are ready to acquire
The timeless imprint of my lyre!
Verses, composed during a night of insomnia... I can't sleep, the light is out;
Chasing senseless dreams in gloom.
Clocks at once, inside my room,
Somewhere next to me, resound.
Parcae's soft and mild chatter,
Sleeping twilight's noisy flutter,
Life's commotion -- so insane..
Why am I to feel this pain?
What's your meaning, boring mumble?
Disapproving, do you grumble
Of the day I spent in vain?
What has made you so compelling?
Are you calling or foretelling?
I just want to understand,
Thus I'm seeking your intent...
Winter morning Cold frost and sunshine: day of wonder!
But you, my friend, are still in slumber--
Wake up, my beauty, time belies:
You dormant eyes, I beg you, broaden
Toward the northerly Aurora,
As though a northern star arise!
Recall last night, the snow was whirling,
Across the sky, the haze was twirling,
The moon, as though a pale dye,
Emerged with yellow through faint clouds.
And there you sat, immersed in doubts,
And now, -- just take a look outside:
The snow below the bluish skies,
Like a majestic carpet lies,
And in the light of day it shimmers.
The woods are dusky. Through the frost
The greenish fir-trees are exposed;
And under ice, a river glitters.
The room is lit with amber light.
And bursting, popping in delight
Hot stove still rattles in a fray.
While it is nice to hear its clatter,
Perhaps, we should command to saddle
A fervent mare into the sleight?
And sliding on the morning snow
Dear friend, we'll let our worries go,
And with the zealous mare we'll flee.
We'll visit empty ranges, thence,
The woods, which used to be so dense
And then the shore, so dear to me.
*** I will be silenced soon!... If on the tragic day
The strings would answer me with pensive play;
If only youth, would mutely grasp me first,
They'd marvel at my love's affliction;
If you, aroused by a mere conviction,
In silence mumbled melancholy verse
And loved my speaking heart in hover...
If I am loved... allow me, my dear friend,
New spirit to the parting lyre send --
The sacred name of my beloved lover!...
When with eternal sleep I will be stoned,
Above my grave then say in inflammation:
"He's loved by me and to me he was loaned
In songs and love's conclusive inspiration."
*** If by life you were deceived,
Don't be dismal, don't be wild!
In the day of grief, be mild
Merry days will come, believe.
Heart is living in tomorrow;
Present is dejected here;
In a moment, passes sorrow;
That which passes will be dear.
*** The final flowers are more dear
Than charming maidens in the field
And the dejected aspirations
They reawake in us with life
Thus sometimes separation's strife
Is livelier than love's occasions
*** The empty "you" for "thee"-- so mild,
By chance, she swapped in dialogue
And all the dreams that I've compiled
Within my loving soul evoked.
I stand before her very humbly,
To look aside -- I do not dare;
I say to her: "you" are so fair!
And gravely think: How much I love "thee!"
*** What's in my name? It's soulless,
It shall expire, like the dismal roar
Of waves that hit the distant shore, --
Like nighttime noises in the forest!
Upon the memo sheet, in grief,
Its imprint in the stillborn gloom,
Much like the writing on the tomb,
In foreign language it will leave.
What's in it? All the lost and trite
In new and wild insurrection,
Within your soul it won't excite
The pure and kind recollections.
But silently, in time of anguish
Pronounce it softly while grieving
Say that my memory won't vanish
That there's a heart in which I'm living...
To*** Why premature exasperation
Feed with the dismal, doomed belief,
And thus, the certain separation
Await alone with timid grief?
It's not that long until dejection!
In calmness of the barren fields,
You will bring forth the recollection
Of days you've lost throughout the years.
Misfortunate! then, you'll be ready,
With price of death to pay the debts,
To buy a word from cherished lady, --
The light resounding of her steps.
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