Aleksandr Pushkin

It’s the last time, when I dare
To cradle your image in my mind,
To wake a dream by my heart, bare,
With exultation, shy and air,
To cue your love that's left behind.
The years run promptly; their fire
Changes the world, and me, and you.
For me, you now are attired
In dark of vaults o’er them who died,
For you -- your friend extinguished too.
My dear friend, so sweet and distant,
Take farewell from all my heart,
As takes a wid in a somber instant,
As takes a friend before a prison
Will split those dear friends apart.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, September, 1999
Edited by Dmitry Karshtedt, December 1999