Pimen [writing in front of a sacred lamp]: One more, the final record, and my annals Are ended, and fulfilled the duty laid By God on me a sinner. No… - Alexander Pushkin

Откад зна да лицемери,
Љубомори, наду скрива,
Разочара ил' увери,
Растужи се ил' љут бива;
Час поносит, час послушан,
Пажљив или равнодушан!
Ћуталицом сад се створи,
Сад пламено, живо збори,
Пише л' којој — аљкав био.
Једним дише, једно слави,
Па и себе заборави!
Поглед бистар, нежан, мио,
Стидљив, дрзак; час да дође:
И послушна суза пође

The clock of doom had struck as fated;
the poet, without a sound,
let fall his pistol on the ground.

Confession

I love you – I love you, e’en as I
Rage at myself for this obsession,
And as I make my shamed confession,
Despairing at your feet I lie.
I know, I know – It ill becomes me,
I am too old, time to be wise …
But how? … This love – it overcomes me,
A sickness this in passion’s guise.
When you are near I’m filled with sadness,
When far, I yawn, for life’s a bore.
I must pour out this love, this madness,
There’s nothing that I long for more!
When your shirts rustle, when, my angel,
Your girlish voice I hear, when your
Light step sounds in the parlour – strangely,
I turn confused, perturbed, unsure.
Your frown – and I’m in pain, I languish;
You smile – and joy defeats distress;
My one reward for a day’s anguish
Comes when your, pale hand, love, I kiss.
When you sit, bent over your sewing,
Your eyes cast down and fine curls blowing.
About your face, with tenderness
I like childlike watch, my heart o’erflowing
With love, in my gaze a caress.
Shall I my jealousy and yearning
Describe, my bitterness and woe
When by yourself on some bleak morning
Off on a distant walk you go,
Or with another spend the evening
And, with him near, the piano play,
Or for Opochka leave, or, grieving
Weep and in silence, pass the day?
Alina! Pray relent have mercy!
I dare not ask for love – with all
My many sins, both great and small,
I am perhaps of love unworthy!
But if feigned love, if you would
Pretend, you’d easily deceive me,
For happily would I, believe me,
Deceive myself if but I could!