Alexander Pushkin
With head inclined, I stand before...

With head inclined, I stand before
The tomb of sainted one of yore…
And all’s asleep; but here some torches
Now gild in church’s nighted gloom
The granite hulk of pillars’ porches,
Where overhead the banners loom.

Beneath them all here slumbers lord,
By all the northern ranks adored,
Respected guard of mighty nation,
The one who humbled every foe,
The last who claimed the acclamation
Of Catherine’s eagles, long ago.

And in your coffin rapture wells!
To us in Russian accents tells;
To us of noble age narrating,
When faithful people’s crying gave
That saintly silver head berating:
“Save us!” – And you got up to save…

Now hear our faithful voice and thus
Arise to save both Tsar and us.
Oh, fearsome senex! For a moment
Release yourself from coffin’s bind
And add new rapture to the ferment
Of the brigades you’ve left behind!

Be manifest, extend your hand
To show from ’midst this motley band
Your heir, the one whom you have chosen!
But silence fills this sacred room,
You rest for ever, still and frozen,
In splendour of your hero’s tomb…

Translated by Rupert Moreton