Click here to the BellePage Editions

Aleksander Puszkin

Click here to the BellePage Editions
all poems' translations are copyright and cannot be reproduced without the written consent of the poet

Send your comments about this beautiful poem on the Contact Page

Winter Evening

The Original is below this translation
Translator Yevgeny Onegin (2000)

The storm wind covers the sky
Whirling the fleecy snow drifts,
Now it howls like a wolf,
Now it is crying, like a lost child,
Now rustling the decayed thatch
On our tumbledown roof,
Now, like a delayed traveller,
Knocking on our window pane.

Our wretched little cottage
Is gloomy and dark.
Why do you sit all silent
Hugging the window, old gran?

Has the howling of the storm
Wearied you, at last, dear friend?
Or are you dozing fitfully
Under the spinning wheel's humming?

Let us drink, dearest friend
To my poor wasted youth.
Let us drink from grief - Where's the glass?
Our hearts at least will be lightened.
Sing me a song of how the bluetit
Quietly lives across the sea.
Sing me a song of how the young girl
Went to fetch water in the morning.


The storm wind covers the sky
Whirling the fleecy snow drifts
Now it howls like a wolf,
Now it is crying, like a lost child.
Let us drink, dearest friend
To my poor wasted youth.
Let us drink from grief - Where's the glass?
Our hearts at least will be lightened.

Birdie

Pushkin
Oiseaux
Top of the Page
or click to Back
Site best viewed on 1024-734 screen resolution
Owned and designed by BellePage Editions © 2006
Last revised in October 2007
Today's Date and Time

in Australia