Alexander Pushkin
- Old man, by Andrey Kneller
(I’m not that lover, filled with passion...) - Old Man, by Babette Deutsch
(I am no more the ardent lover...) - The old man, by Christopher Alan Tessone
(I am no more that passioned lover...)
«The river quietly dreams. / Dark forest stands still. / Crake doesn’t scream. / And nightingales don’t trill. It’s a night of silence. / The rill hardly makes a sound, / While moon’s brilliance / Silvers everything around. Silver shines the river. / Silver shines the rill. / ...»
«Tears... again these bitter tears, / For broken dreams that flew far away, / For dreaded sadness that nothing cheers, / For new darkness, that nothing keeps at bay. What is to come? More such torment? / No, its enough... It is time to rest, let go, / And to forget the sounds of lament, / ...»
«Dedicated to I. D. Rudinsky Sun’s golden arc / Hot like a red coal, / Sent down its spark / And it warmed my soul; Although, I am not sure / Now, I hope that I could / Expect from my future / To bring something good; The warmth brought me back / To life, the light illuminated me /...»
«Blossom wite bird cherries scatter / On the on the dewy grass like snow. / Hungry rooks in ploughland gather, / Picked warms up as they go. / Low the silk smooth grath is bending, / Pitch scents to the pine-trees cling. / Groves in leaf, and luscios meadows — / How the senses reel i...»