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Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

A Poem by Alexander Pushkin: The Singer

The Singer Did you attend? He sang by grove ripe – The bard of love, the singer of his mourning. When fields were silent by the early morning, To sad and simple sounds of a pipe Did you attend? Did …

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A Poem by Alexander Pushkin : The Roussalka

The Roussalka A LEGEND OF THE WATER-SPRITE In forest depths, beside a mere, A monk once made his habitation ; Absorbed in penances severe, In fast and prayer he sought salvation. Already by his own poor spade His grave was …

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A Poem by Alexander Pushkin : The Prophet

The Prophet Longing for spiritual springs, I dragged myself through desert sands … An angel with three pairs of wings Arrived to me at cross of lands; With fingers so light and slim He touched my eyes as in a …

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A Poem by Alexander Pushkin : The Poet

The Poet Until he hears Apollo’s call To make a hallowed sacrifice, A Poet lives in feeble thrall To people’s empty vanities; And silent is his sacred lyre, His soul partakes of chilly sleep, And of the world’s unworthy sons …

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A Poem by Alexander Pushkin : The Night

The Night My voice that is for you the languid one, and gentle, Disturbs the velvet of the dark night’s mantle, By my bedside, a candle, my sad guard, Burns, and my poems ripple and merge in flood — And …

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A Poem by Alexander Pushkin : The Name

The Name What is my name to you? ‘T will die: a wave that has but rolled to reach with a lone splash a distant beach; or in the timbered night a cry … ‘T will leave a lifeless trace …

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A Poem by Alexander Pushkin : The Memorial

The Memorial Beyond compare the monument I have erected, And to this spirit column well-worn the people’s path,– Its head defiant will out-soar that famous pillar The Emperor Alexander hath! I shall not vanish wholly,–No! but young forever My spirit …

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A Poem by Alexander Pushkin : The Last Flower

The Last Flower Rich the first flower’s graces be, But dearer far the last to me; My spirit feels renewal sweet, Of all my dreams hope or desire– The hours of parting oft inspire More than the moments when we …

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A Poem by Alexander Pushkin : The Duel

  The Duel FROM ‘EUGENE ONIEGIN ‘ 28 Yes, foes!—How many days, bethink you, Since hatred stepped the two between, And since in hours of thought and leisure, At work, at table, they have been As comrades! Now, with purpose …

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A Poem by Alexander Pushkin : The Dream

  The Dream Not long ago, in a charming dream, I saw myself — a king with crown’s treasure; I was in love with you, it seemed, And heart was beating with a pleasure. I sang my passion’s song by …

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A Poem by Alexander Pushkin : The Delibash

  The Delibash With the hostile camp in skirmish Our men once were changing shot, Pranced the Delibash his charger ‘Fore our ranks of Cossacks hot. Trifle not with free-born Cossacks! Nor too o’er foolhardy be! Thy mad mood thou …

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A Poem by Alexander Pushkin : The Coming Of Winter

  The Coming Of Winter _Stanzas from ‘Onegin’ _ Our Northern Winter’s fickle Summer, Than Southern Winter scarce more bland– Is undeniably withdrawing On fleeting footsteps from the land. Soon will the Autumn dim the heavens, The light of sunbeams …

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A Poem by Alexander Pushkin : The Caucas

  The Caucas The Caucas lies before my feet! I stand where Glaciers gleam, beside a precipice rock-ribbed; An eagle that has soared from off some distant cliff, Lawless as I, sweeps through the radiant air! Here I see streams …

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A Poem by Alexander Pushkin : The Black Shawl

  The Black Shawl As of senses bereft, at a black shawl I stare, And my chill heart is tortured with deadly despair. When dreaming too fondly in credulous youth, I loved a Greek maiden with passion and truth. My …

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A Poem by Alexander Pushkin : TARTAR SONG

  TARTAR SONG. I. Heaven visits man with days of sadness, Embitters oft his nights with tears; Blest is the Fakir who with gladness Views Mecca in declining years. II. Blest he who sees pale Death await him On Danube’s …

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A Poem by Alexander Pushkin : Tempest

  Tempest You saw perched on a cliff a maid, Her raiment white above the breakers, When the mad sea reared up and played Its whips of spray on coastal acres And now and then the lightnings flush, And purple …

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