Aleksandr Pushkin, 1799-1837. Russian writer who wrote the novel Eugene Onegin (1831), the play Boris Godunov (1831), and many narrative and lyrical poems and short stories.
Peace and obscurity in mind, I chose this happy hermit's part, With you, enchanting, ever kind, With you, bright beacon of my heart!
Too deeply snarled in coils unreal, He sheds hot tears of fury thwarted; It is a dream, his senses feel; And yet he fails, all strength aborted, To break the dreadful nightmare's seal.
Know then, Ruslan: your foul offender Is the magician Chernomor, The northern ranges' dread commander, Fair maidens' predator of yore. Not ever has his mansion's splendor Been pierced by human gaze before; But you, vile artifices' ender, Shall beard the malefactor, and--- He is to perish by your hand.
Just so a rabbit, wildly bolting, His ears in panic downward folding, Will streak through paddock, copse, and mound, Ahead of the pursuing hound. The spring had melted into torrents The thawing snows along the crest, And where the chase went, turbid currents Were furrowing earth's dampened breast.
There all is silent, nothing stirs, With cooling breath, a stillness hushing The sigh of hundred-year-old firs Undwelled by birds. No roe-fawn dares To drink here; for twin spirit forces, Mute in the very womb of calm, Since earth spun off the Father's palm Have stood on guard above these sources...
In vain young sirens have caressed me With whispered prophecies of bliss; A dozen maidens have possessed me--- I left the lot of them for this; I left behind their merry bower There in the wildwood-sheltered realm, Laid down my sword, the weighty helm, Forswore renown and martial power.
More Quotes by Aleksandr Pushkin: Page 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
