My whole life has been pledged to this meeting with you... - Alexander Pushkin

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!

What grace could all your worldly power bring
To One whose crown of thorns has made him King,
The Christ who gave His body to the flails,
Who humbly bore the lance and piercing nails?
Or do you fear the rabble might disgrace The One.

وسيكرمنى الشعب مع ذلك طويلا
لأن قيثارتى مضبوطة على حب المودة
وفى عصر قاس،غنيت بالحرية
وتسولت الرحمة من العدالة فى عماها..

هكذا، بلا مبالاة بالمديح أو الملام
لا يعنينى، يا ربة الشعر، سوى الصوت الإلهى
بلا خوف من الأذى ،بلا سعى إلى الشهرة،
ولا نثر الدر على الخنازير..