On the Death of Amalia Riznich

Beneath blue skies of her own country, she
Fell languishing and withering,
Faded at last; and her young shade, maybe,
Already touched me with its wing.
Between us is a line impassable.
In vain I tried to wake my sense.
I heard indifferent lips of her death tell;
I listened with indifference.
So this is she I loved with soul afire.
With spirit in so dolorous stress,
With such a sweet and languishing desire.
Such suffering, such foolishness.
Where are love’s torments? In my heart, alack,
For that poor shadow confident,
For sweet remembered days that come not back,
I find no tear and no lament.

Translated by Cecil Maurice Bowra

A.S. Pushkin. On the Death of Amalia Riznich (“Beneath blue skies of her own country, she...”). Translated by Cecil Maurice Bowra // Alexander Pushkin. Collected Works: Parallel Russian Text and English Translation.
© Электронная публикация — РВБ, 2022—2024. Версия 2.1 от 30 ноября 2023 г.