Alexander Pushkin
The Winter Road

Through the misty billows’ fingers
Threads the moon with pallid shade,
On the dismal glades she lingers,
Casts her dismal beams’ parade.

Down the listless winter passage
Races troika pulled by hounds,
Tolls the sleigh-bell’s one-note message,
Fills the air with tedious sounds.

Something cherished catches hearing
In the coachman’s drawn-out songs:
Now a rowdy ode endearing,
Now in yearning dirge he longs.

Neither fire, nor darkened hovel…
Snowy wastes… Towards me rush
Flashing versts dug out by shovel
Through the dark night’s mournful hush.

Fretful, Nina, with the dawning,
Darling, I’ll return to you,
Dozing by the fire and yawning,
Gaze unseeing, thoughts eschew.

Ticking hand of clock is tracking,
Now completed is its course,
Tiresome hangers-on sent packing,
Midnight us will not divorce.

Nina, how the journey bores me,
Coachman, dozing, silent falls,
Sleigh-bell still it jingles dully,
Mist across the moon’s face trawls.

Translated by Rupert Moreton