Alexander Pushkin
- To Chaadaev, by Andrey Kneller
(The lies of fame and love’s resolve...) - To Chaadayev, by Babette Deutsch
(Not long we basked in the illusion...)
«Oh, alguna vez, cuándo / me sentaré y me olvidaré de mí, / por poco tiempo — para siempre, / en cualquier lugar y en todas partes Olvidaré todo, lo desaprenderé, / me descalzaré y me desnudaré, / me despediré / y me esconderé de mí en alguna parte»
«O Thou, in universe so boundless, / alive in planets as they swarm / within eternal flow, yet timeless, / unseen, you reign in triune form! / Thy single Spirit all comprises, / from no abode or cause arises, / keeps paths that Reason never trod, / pervades, incarnate, all that's living...»
«Metallic clangour! Tongue of time! / Your fatal voice oppresses me; / your groans call me insistently, / call me and speed me to the grave. / Scarcely the light of day I see / and death already grinds her teeth; / like lightning flashes her scythe gleams / and cuts my days like stalks...»
«I sit where the light is above me, / my circular room is my sphere; / I gaze at a plasterwork heaven / where the sun is an old chandelier. And likewise illumined around me, / the chairs and the table and bed. / Should I sit with my hands in my pockets, / or where might I put them instea...»