‘I Loved You – And Maybe Love…’ by Alexander Pushkin

I loved you – and maybe love

still smoulders in my heart;

but let my love not trouble

you or cause you any hurt.

I loved you but stayed silent,

timid, despairing, jealous;

I loved you truly – God grant

you such love from someone else.

 

by Александр Сергеевич Пушкин (Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin)

a.k.a. Aleksandr Sergeyevich Pushkin

(1829)

translated by Robert Chandler

Epigraph to ‘The Queen of Spades’ by Alexander Pushkin

In rainy weather

they gather together

to play.

To double – redouble –

a stake was no trouble,

they say.

They did not find it hard

to entrust to a card

their pay,

So no day of rain

ever slipped by in vain,

they say.

 

by Александр Сергеевич Пушкин (Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin)

a.k.a. Aleksandr Sergeyevich Pushkin

(1833)

translated by Robert Chandler


Fun fact:

This piece of course precedes Pushkin’s famous short story ‘The Queen of Spades’.

I found this 1916 silent film adaption in the Expressionist style, made famous by works such as Nosferatu and The Cabinet of Dr Caligari, with burnt in English subtitles (give it a few moments at the start as they don’t show up immediately) which might be of interest if you have an hour to spare.

To Vyazemsky by Alexander Pushkin

It seems the sea, that scourge of ages,

contrives your genius to inspire?

You laud upon your golden lyre

old Neptune’s trident as he rages.

 

Don’t waste your praise. These days you’ll find

that sea and land have no division.

On any element mankind

is tyrant, traitor, or in prison.

 

by Александр Сергеевич Пушкин (Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin)

a.k.a. Aleksandr Sergeyevich Pushkin

(1826)

translated by  Alan Myers


 

The poem is addressed to Pushkin’s close friend and poetic contemporary Prince Pyotr Andreyevich Vyazemsky who was a leading personality of the Golden Age of Russian poetry.

The Season’s Last Flowers Yield by Alexander Pushkin

The season’s last flowers yield

more than those first in the field.

The thoughts they rouse, sharp, sweet,

have an incomparable power.

Likewise the parting hour

as against when we merely meet.

 

by Александр Сергеевич Пушкин (Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin)

(1825)

translated by Christopher Reid