Aleksandr Pushkin

With her forever burning soul,
With her forever stormy passions,
Oh, northern wives, amidst you, precious,
She sometimes follows her goal.
And, passing by all world’s conditions,
She speeds till her strengths will be ended…
Just like a comet, injudicious, 
Amidst the planets, calculated. 


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, March 4, 2003