Reading Russian Poetry
Fet: What Sadness!
What sadness! The end of the tree-lined path /
Has vanished once again beneath a morning snow…
Pasternak: Night
The night proceeds without delay, / And melts; and all the while, / Above a sleeping world, a pilot / Soars off into the clouds.
Balmont: I Came into this World to See the Sun…
I came into this world to see the Sun / And the blue horizon.
Pushkin: Futile Gift, Accidental Gift…
Futile gift, accidental gift, / Life, why were you given to me?
Tyutchev: Two Poems About the Sea
There’s a melody in the waves of the sea, / A harmony in the clashing of the elements…
Pasternak: Holy Week
And their gaze is seized with horror. / One can understand their alarm. / The gardens are bursting their walls, / The very structure of the earth is shaken: / They are burying God.
Pushkin: Elegy
But, friends, I do not wish to die; / I want to live, so I can think, and suffer…
Pushkin: A Freedom-Sower in a Desert Realm
A freedom-sower in a desert realm, / I set out early, before the morning star appeared…
Hungarian Poetry: Radnóti
Some of the incredibly haunting final poems of the Hungarian poet Miklos Radnóti.
Czesław Miłosz: Meaning
When I die, I will see beneath the surface of the world. / The other side concealed behind the bird, the mountain, the sunset.
Wisława Szymborska: Nothing Twice
Nothing ever happens twice, / Nor will it. For this reason, / We were born without proficiency, / And will all die without routine.
Pasternak: Let Us Strew Words…
You ask: Who thus ordains? / The omnipotent God of details, / The omnipotent God of love…
Lermontov: The Prophet
Ever since the Eternal Judge / Granted me the omniscience of a prophet, / In the eyes of men I read / Pages of enmity and vice.
Christmas Eve
It may be that everything has been profaned by centuries of crimes; / It may be that nothing has remained unstained…
Lermontov: The Demon (full text)
The somber Demon, banished from the heights, / Soared aimlessly above the sinful earth…
Brodsky: Solitude
When your weary consciousness / loses its balance; / when the steps of this staircase / slip from beneath your feet / like a ship’s deck; / when your nocturnal solitude / spits on humanity — you might / meditate on eternity…
Pushkin: To Chaadaev
Russia will awaken from its sleep, / And upon the ruins of autocracy / They will write our names!
Pasternak: In Everything I Long to Reach…
In everything I long to reach / The very essence. / In my toil, in searching for my path, / In my heart’s unrest.
Derzhavin: God (An Ode)
Like a single drop of water fallen in the sea / Is this entire firmament before you. / But what, then, is this universe I see? / And what am I in your regard?