Aleksandr Pushkin

Farewell, O, faithful leafy groves!
Farewell, O, careless world of fields,
Farewell, funs, – each on light wings hovers –
Of days – each so promptly fleets!
Farewell, Trigorskoe, where gladness
Had met me for so many times!
Whether I’d drunk your charming freshness
Just to lose you for good at once?
From you I’m taking recollections
And leaving my heart here for you.
May be, – a dream, filled with sweet passion, –
I’d come back to walk your fields through;
I’d come under the vaults of lime-trees,
On a slope of Trigorskoe’s hill,
A worshiper of freedom ours,
Of Graces, joy and high mind, still. 


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, March 28, 2005