Aleksandr Pushkin

I'm left alone at my ends,
The feasts, the mistresses, the friends
Had vanished with the slim illusions -
My youth had faded right away
With all its gifts of false allusions.
Like this, the candles, that through night
Were burning for young feasters' sight, 
In ending of the mad profusion, 
Are paling in the light of day.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver
November, 1999