Pushkin, "Окно"

A very popular poem ("Window") by this writer of genius.  You can read the original here.

One darkened time not long ago,        
Beneath an empty moon's sad reign,
In foggy haze of endless flow,
A girl sat by a window pane.  
Alone I saw her brood in thought,   
Her breast a-heave in secret thrills;
As her keen gaze the circuits caught
Of one dark path beneath the hills.

"I'm here!" came forth a whisper's snatch,       
And shaking, she moved quick her hands, 
Through fear and angst to window's latch,
The moon as lightless as the lands. 
"Luck's child," I said with certain woe,
"For you but joy awaits your heart! 
"And when shall I some evening know,
"A window open as fate's chart?"

Comments

[B]

Dear Mr. Deeb,

I very much enjoy your website. I came across it by chance some time ago, and have returned to it periodically, but with increasing frequency. Your posts completely refresh me when I sit down to read them at the end of a long day of scholastic endeavor, even when I disagree with what you posit. Keep up the good work. I look forward to your future posts!

All the best,
Bradley

[deeblog]

Thank you, Bradley, for your kind comments!

[Katie]

Very nice, Hadi. Maybe someday I'll know enough Russian to read the original.

I somehow ended up at a talk on decision-making in translation (of medieval Bengali) and translation theory, and I thought of you. You should take that as a compliment.

[deeblog]

Katie, many thanks for your com(pli)ments. Did you know that Pushkin loathed summer? I suppose cloudless climes and starry skies cannot replace the dreams that Russian winters beget.