Alexander Pushkin
Beneath the azure heaven of her native land...

Beneath the azure heaven of her native land
        She festered and began to wither…
And having withered, then she flew above me and
        Her shadow soon was heading thither;
But now between us stretched a line we couldn’t cross.
        In vain I then bestirred my senses:
Indifferent lips informed me of her tragic loss,
        I listened with no grief’s pretences.
So much for her whom I had loved with ardent heart
        With such expense of nervous striving,
And with such tenderness and yearning’s wearied art,
        With crazed and much tormented writhing!
So where were pain and love? Alas, my spirit held
        For that naïve poor shade no anguish,
For sweet remembrance of those halcyon days then swelled
        No tear — in grief I didn’t languish.

Translated by Rupert Moreton