Aleksandr Pushkin

Who saw the maiden on the rock --
Closed in white -- and waves around,
When, in the stormy darkness locked,
The sea was playing with the ground?

When she was every minute lit
By scarlet lights in thunder’s rattle,
And wind was ravishing and swift
In crazy flight with her white mantle?

The sea is beautiful, when rocks,
And skies -- with flashes, void of azure;
But, Lord! The maiden on the rock
Was more beautiful than nature!


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, October, 1999
Edited by Dmitry Karshtedt, November, 1999