I have come to you against my wish," she said in a firm voice: "but I have been ordered to grant your request. Three, seven, ace, will win for you if… - Alexander Pushkin

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I have come to you against my wish," she said in a firm voice: "but I have been ordered to grant your request. Three, seven, ace, will win for you if played in succession, but only on these conditions: that you do not play more than one card in twenty-four hours, and that you never play again during the rest of your life. I forgive you my death, on condition that you marry my companion, Lizaveta Ivanovna.

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About Alexander Pushkin

Aleksandr Sergeyevich Pushkin (Russian: Алекса́ндр Серге́евич Пу́шкин) (6 June (26 May, O.S.) 1799 – 10 February (29 January, O.S.) 1837) was a Russian poet, playwright, and novelist of the Romantic era. He is considered by many to be the greatest Russian poet and the founder of modern Russian literature.

Biography information from Wikiquote

Also Known As

Native Name: Александр Сергеевич Пушкин Александръ Сергѣевичъ Пушкинъ
Alternative Names: Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin Aleksandr Sergeyevich Pushkin Aleksandr Pushkin Aleksandr Serge'evich Pushkin Pushkin Pouchkine Aleksandr Sergueevitch
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Additional quotes by Alexander Pushkin

Онегин, я тогда моложе,
Я лучше, кажется, была,
И я любила вас; и что же?
Что в сердце вашем я нашла?
Какой ответ? одну суровость.
Не правда ль? Вам была не новость
Смиренной девочки любовь?
И нынче — боже — стынет кровь,
Как только вспомню взгляд холодный
И эту проповедь… Но вас
Я не виню: в тот страшный час
Вы поступили благородно.
Вы были правы предо мной:
Я благодарна всей душой…

Şi iar cuprins de trândăvie, Cu suflet gol şi răvăşit, Se-aşază lacom el să fie De minţi străine instruit. Înşiră cărţi pe etajere, Romane seci şi efemere, Cu conţinut şi sterp şi-anost Citeşte mult şi fără rost. Dar un urât de moarte-l paşte: Ici se agită-o pocitură, Colea o nouă secătură. Femei şi cărţi îl fac să caşte; Şi peste tomurile grele, Tronând în praf, a tras perdele. Scăpând de-a lumii grea povară, Ca el, fugind de vălmăşag, M-atrase prietenia-i rară Şi chipul său atât de drag: Cu însuşirea-i spre visare Şi înclinările-i bizare; La minte rece şi tăios, Eu învrăjbit, el neguros, Ne-am potrivit în patimi jocul.

I rode to meet you: dreams
like living beings swarmed around me
and the moon on my right side
followed me, burning.

I rode back: everything changed.
My soul in love was sad
and the moon on my left side
trailed me without hope.

To such endless impressions
we poets give ourselves absolutely,
making, in silence, omen of mere event,
until the world reflects the deepest needs of the soul.

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