Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

(6 June 1799 – 10 February 1837 / Moscow)

Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin Poems

1. 'I am in Chains...' 11/26/2015
2. The Bronze Horseman 1/13/2016
3. Devils 3/30/2016
4. 'Oh, Laziness, Come...' 4/27/2016
5. I Loved You Once 6/4/2015
6. Dear Chains 11/22/2014
7. No Tears 11/22/2014
8. The Flower 1/2/2015
9. The Water-Nymph 11/22/2014
10. Under A Portrait Of Jukowsky 3/31/2010
11. The Delibash 3/31/2010
12. The Song Of The Kasak 3/31/2010
13. Upon The Hills Of Georgia 3/31/2010
14. The Caucas 3/31/2010
15. To The Don 3/31/2010
16. To Chadaev 3/31/2010
17. The Bakchesarian Fountain 3/31/2010
18. The High Road In Winter 3/31/2010
19. Why Feed The Early Signs Of Boredom? 3/31/2010
20. The Roussalka 3/31/2010
21. Night Piece 3/31/2010
22. Winter Evening 3/31/2010
23. The Duel 3/31/2010
24. The Coach Of Life 3/31/2010
25. Thou And You 3/31/2010
26. To Lily 3/31/2010
27. The Poet 3/31/2010
28. Old Man 3/31/2010
29. The Vision 3/31/2010
30. The Coming Of Winter 3/31/2010
31. Impromtu On Ogareva 3/31/2010
32. Under The Blue Skies... 3/31/2010
33. Goblins Of The Steppes 3/31/2010
34. The Memorial 3/31/2010
35. She 3/31/2010
36. Thoughts 3/31/2010
37. The Black Shawl 3/31/2010
38. To... (Kern) 3/31/2010
39. Night 3/31/2010
40. To Natasha 3/31/2010
Best Poem of Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

I Loved You

I loved you, and I probably still do,
And for a while the feeling may remain...
But let my love no longer trouble you,
I do not wish to cause you any pain.
I loved you; and the hopelessness I knew,
The jealousy, the shyness - though in vain -
Made up a love so tender and so true
As may God grant you to be loved again.


Translated by Genia Gurarie, 11/10/95

Read the full of I Loved You

Muse

In my youth's years, she loved me, I am sure.
The flute of seven pipes she gave in my tenure
And harked to me with smile -- without speed,
Along the ringing holes of the reed,
I got to play with my non-artful fingers
The peaceful songs of Phrygian village singers,
And the important hymns, that gods to mortals bade.
>From morn till night in oaks' silent shade
I diligently harked to the mysterious virgin;

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