A poem by Alexander Pushkin – Pouchkine, Pooshkin (1799-1837), in English translation

The wondrous moment of our meeting…

Still I remember you appear

Before me like a vision fleeting,

A beauty’s angel pure and clear.

In hopeless ennui surrounding

The worldly bustle, to my ear

For long your tender voice kept sounding,

For long in dreams came features dear.

Time passed. Unruly storms confounded

Old dreams, and I from year to year

Forgot how tender you had sounded,

Your heavenly features once so dear.

My backwoods days dragged slow and quiet —

Dull fence around, dark vault above —

Devoid of God and uninspired,

Devoid of tears, of fire, of love.

Sleep from my soul began retreating,

And here you once again appear

Before me like a vision fleeting,

A beauty’s angel pure and clear.

In ecstasy my heart is beating,

Old joys for it anew revive;

Inspired and God-filled, it is greeting

The fire, and tears, and love alive.

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