Alexander Pushkin Short Poems

Famous Short Alexander Pushkin Poems. Short poetry by famous poet Alexander Pushkin. A collection of the all-time best Alexander Pushkin short poems

• Alexander Pushkin Poems
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Friendship  

 What's friendship? The hangover's faction,
The gratis talk of outrage,
Exchange by vanity, inaction,
Or bitter shame of patronage.

The Dream  

 Not long ago, in a charming dream,
I saw myself -- a king with crown's treasure;
I was in love with you, it seemed,
And heart was beating with a pleasure.

I sang my passion's song by your enchanting knees.

Why, dreams, you didn't prolong my happiness forever?
But gods deprived me not of whole their favor:
I only lost the kingdom of my dreams.

A Little Bird  

 In alien lands I keep the body
Of ancient native rites and things:
I gladly free a little birdie
At celebration of the spring.


I'm now free for consolation,
And thankful to almighty Lord:
At least, to one of his creations
I've given freedom in this world!

The Night  

 My voice that is for you the languid one, and gentle,
Disturbs the velvet of the dark night's mantle,
By my bedside, a candle, my sad guard,
Burns, and my poems ripple and merge in flood --
And run the streams of love, run, full of you alone,
And in the dark, your eyes shine like the precious stones,
And smile to me, and hear I the voice:
My friend, my sweetest friend.
.
.
 I love.
.
.
 I'm yours.
.
.
 I'm yours!

The Wish  

 I shed my tears; my tears – my consolation;
And I am silent; my murmur is dead,
My soul, sunk in a depression’s shade,
Hides in its depths the bitter exultation.

I don’t deplore my passing dream of life --
Vanish in dark, the empty apparition!
I care only for my love’s infliction,
And let me die, but only die in love!

Thou and You  

 She substituted, by a chance,
For empty "you" -- the gentle "thou";
And all my happy dreams, at once,
In loving heart again resound.

In bliss and silence do I stay,
Unable to maintain my role:
"Oh, how sweet you are!" I say --
"How I love thee!" says my soul.

Solitude  

 He's blessed, who lives in peace, that's distant
From the ignorant fobs with calls,
Who can provide his every instance
With dreams, or labors, or recalls;
To whom the fate sends friends in score,
Who hides himself by Savior's back
From bashful fools, which lull and bore,
And from the impudent ones, which wake.

Morpheus  

 Oh, Morpheus, give me joy till morning
For my forever painful love:
Just blow out candles' burning
And let my dreams in blessing move.

Let from my soul disappear
The separation's sharp rebuke!
And let me see that dear look,
And let me hear voice that dear.

And when will vanish dark of night
And you will free my eyes at leaving,
Oh, if my heart would have a right
To lose its love till dark of evening!

Tempest  

 You saw perched on a cliff a maid,
Her raiment white above the breakers,
When the mad sea reared up and played
Its whips of spray on coastal acres
And now and then the lightnings flush,
And purple gleams upon her hover,
And fluttering up in swirling rush,
The wind rides in her airy cover?
Fair is the sea in gales arrayed,
The heavens drained of blue and flashing,
But fairer on her cliff the maid
Than storms and skies and breakers crashing.

To My Friends  

 The chain of golden days and nights
Is still your heritage from Deity,
And, still, the languid maidens’ eyes
Are turned to you as well intently.

So, play and sing, friends of my years!
Lose very quickly passing evening,
And, at your heedless joy and singing,
I will be smiling through my tears.

On Count Voronstov  

 One half Milord, one half in trade, 
One half a sage, one half a dunce, 
One half a crook, but here for once 
There's every hope he'll make the grade.