A. S. Pushkin

                A.S. Pushkin

       I do not pit its, years' a Spring of mine,

       That passed with dreams of vain a love,

       I do not pit its, nights whith mysteries're shine

       That voluptuous flute has singing their sharm.


       I do not pit you, faithless friends of mine,

       A banquets' garlands and a loving-cups,

       I do noy pit you, traitress of a prity shine,

       I am in dreaming, and I'm apart of marry-chaps

      
       But where are you, a minutes of my choice,

       Of a young hopes, and a calm's reason?

       Where previous hot, and a tears of my voice?

       I wait for you, and come again my years of Spring!


        Translation from Russian 

        V. Panchenko(vipanch), 2023

      

      

       


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