* * *

Life, the gift so idle and random,
Why 're you given to me at all?
Or, else, why must you abandon
Me, condemned to deadly call?

What cruel force has called me, raising
From nonentity to light,
Filled my soul with passion blazing,
Stirred with doubt my eager mind?..

Void's my brain, and drained's my spirit.
No goals for which I strive.
I am sick to death of hearing
The monotonous buzz of life.

Translated by Natasha Gotskaya

A.S. Pushkin. “Life, the gift so idle and random...”. Translated by Natasha Gotskaya // Alexander Pushkin. Collected Works: Parallel Russian Text and English Translation.
© Электронная публикация — РВБ, 2022—2024. Версия 2.1 от 30 ноября 2023 г.