Александр Пушкин Поэт Alexander Pushkin Poet

While a poet to sacrificial swears
By Apollo hasn’t been forced,
Into the bustling society’s cares
Faint-heartedly he is immersed;
His silent holy lyre was locking;
The soul's tasting a cold sleepfall,
Among the world’s kids, small and poky,
He may be the least of them all.

But if only a divine verb
Touches a clear, sensitive ear, so fast
The poet's soul stirs, like an eagle just
Awakens in the mountain herb.
Among the world’s pleasures, he is sad,
He shuns the human rumor words,
He does not bow his proud head
To feet of folk’s idols and lords;
Wild and severe, he runs in a mood,
Full of confusion, sounds of verse,
Onto the deserted waves’ shores,
Into the wide and noisy oakwood…

16-17 September, 2024

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Портрет А. С. Пушкина. Художник О. А. Кипренский. 1827 год
Portrait of A. S. Pushkin. The artist O. A. Kiprensky. 1827
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