1000 petals by axinia

the only truth I know is my own experience

Autumn by A. Pushkin November 7, 2008

Filed under: innocence,love,thoughts,world — axinia @ 10:16 am
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

A wonderful season poem by the best Russian poet, Alexander S. Pushkin (unfortunately, as any translation it does not reflect the true beauty of Pushkin’s language and love):

AUTUMN

October has arrived – the woods have tossed
Their final leaves from naked branches;
A breath of autumn chill – the road begins to freeze,
The stream still murmurs as it passes by the mill,
The pond, however’s frozen; and my neighbor hastens
to his far-flung fields with all the members of his hunt.
The winter wheat will suffer from this wild fun,
And baying hounds awake the slumbering groves.
             
II
This is my time: I am not fond of spring;
The tiresome thaw, the stench, the mud – spring sickens me.
The blood ferments, and yearning binds the heart and mind..
With cruel winter I am better satisfied,
I love the snows; when in the moonlight
A sleigh ride swift and carefree with a friend.
Who, warm and rosy ‘neath a sable mantle,
Burns, trembles as she clasps your hand.

III
What fun it is, with feet in sharp steel shod,
To skim the mirror of the smooth and solid streams!
And how about the shining stir of winter feasts? . .
But in the end you must admit that naught but snow
For half the year will even bore a bear
Deep in his den. We cannot ride for ages,
In sleighs with youthful nymphs
Or sulk around the stove behind storm windows.

IV
O, summer fair! I would have loved you, too,
Except for heat and dust and gnats and flies.
You kill off all our mental power,
Torment us; and like fields, we suffer from the drought;
To take a drink, refresh ourselves somehow –
We think of nothing else, and long for lady Winter,
And, having bid farewell to her with pancakes and with wine,
We hold a wake to honor her with ice-cream and with ice.

V
The latter days of fall are often cursed,
But as for me, kind reader, she is precious
In all her quiet beauty, mellow glow.
Thus might a child, disfavored in its family,
Draw my regard. To tell you honestly,
Of all the times of year, I cherish her alone.
She’s full of worth; and I, a humble lover,
Have found in her peculiar charms.

VI
How can this be explained? I favor her
As you might one day find yourself attracted
To a consumptive maid. Condemned to death,
The poor child languishes without complaint or anger.
A smile plays upon her withering lips;
She cannot sense as yet the gaping maw of death;
A crimson glow still flits across her face.
Today she lives, tomorrow she is gone.

VII
A melancholy time! So charming to the eye!
Your beauty in its parting pleases me –
I love the lavish withering of nature,
The gold and scarlet raiment of the woods,
The crisp wind rustling o’er their threshold,
The sky engulfed by tides of rippled gloom,
The sun’s scarce rays, approaching frosts,
And gray-haired winter threatening from afar.

VIII
When autumn comes, I bloom anew;
The Russian frost does wonders for my health;
Anew I fall in love with life’s routine:
Betimes I’m soothed by dreams, betimes by hunger caught;
The blood flows free and easy in my heart,
Abrim with passion; once again, I’m happy, young,
I’m full of life – such is my organism
(Excuse me for this awful prosaism)

IX
My horse is brought to me; in open field,
With flying mane, he carries fast his rider,
And with his shining hooves he hammers out a song
Upon the frozen, ringing vale, and crackling ice.
But fleeting day dies out, new fire comes alive
Inside the long-forgotten stove– it blazes bright,
Then slowly smoulders – as I read before it,
Or nourish long and heartfelt thoughts.

X
And I forget the world – in silence sweet,
I’m sweetly lulled by my imagination,
And poetry awakens deep inside:
My heart is churned with lyric agitation,
It trembles, moans, and strives, as if in sleep,
To pour out in the end a free statement-
And here they come – a ghostly swarm of guests,
My long-lost friends, the fruits of all my dream.

XI
My mind is overcome by dashing thoughts,
And rhymes come running eagerly to meet them,
My hand demands a pen; the pen – a sheet of paper.
Another minute – and my verse will freely flow.
Thus slumbers an immobile ship caught in immobile waters,
But lo! – the sailors rush all of a sudden, crawl
Up top, then down – sails billow, filled with wind;
The massive structure moves, and cuts the waves.

XII
It sails. But whither do we sail?…

(translation from Russian)

image by axinia

 

18 Responses to “Autumn by A. Pushkin”

  1. swaps Says:

    “Who, warm and rosy ‘neath a sable mantle,
    Burns, trembles as she clasps your hand.”

    I am one with Pushkin in adoring winter.

  2. axinia Says:

    I wonder if you have ever seen winter?
    🙂

  3. Scietech Says:

    Lovely poem! Thanks for sharing it, Axinia.

    Despite the fact that it is a translated version, it so beautifully describes nature! I wonder how mesmerising it would have been in Russian 🙂

  4. axinia Says:

    it is. like a music 🙂

  5. Tomas Says:

    the poem is like a music, and thus my response too will be like one in a concert hall – I’m applauding.

  6. axinia Says:

    thanks, Tomas, that is very sensitive, as usual by you!

  7. swaps Says:

    You know the best thing here? The weather is pleasant all year round (Or rather, it was before global warming).

  8. axinia Says:

    I know, the weather is pleasant in the south, but believe me my friend, there is a certain charm in a nasty weather too!
    🙂

  9. Sahaja Says:

    Hmm…Somehow, I dont know why,
    I love Hyderabadi hot climate and frosty Manchester’s as well to the same extent!! Cant understand why we should compare……:-I

  10. wortman Says:

    this song i love: “Forever Autumn” from Justin Hayward

    The summer sun is fading as the year grows old,
    and darker days are drawing near,
    the winter winds will be much colder,
    now you’re not here.
    I watch the birds fly south across the autumn sky
    and one by one they disappear
    I wish that I was flying with them,
    now you’re not here

    like the sun through the trees you came to love me
    like a leaf on a breeze you blew away

    through autumn’s golden gown we used to kick our way
    you always loved this time of year
    loose fallen leaves lie undisturbed now
    cos you’re not here

    like the sun through the trees you came to love me
    like a leaf on a breeze you blew away

    a gentle rain falls softly on my weary eyes
    as if to hide a lonely tear
    my life will be forever autumn
    cos you’re not here

  11. Keep seeing your comments on Nita’s blog. Finally arrived to discover a beautiful poem and a lovely pic post by you.
    Nice blog!

  12. axinia Says:

    thank you, hope you will discover much more 🙂
    happy to see you here, Gopinath Mavinkurve!

  13. This is a good post, but I was wondering how do I suscribe to the RSS feed?

  14. Luis Garacci Says:

    Wonderful site, where did you come up with the knowledge in this article? Im pleased I found it though, ill be checking back soon to see what other articles you have.

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  17. Barbara Says:

    Aninia, Did you translate this poem from Russian to English? It’s beautiful and thrilling. Thanks for sharing!


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