The Last Leaf

From the Russian by John Pollen
Ya Perezhil Svoï Zhelanya

I ’VE overlived aspirings,
My fancies I disdain;
The fruit of hollow-heartedness,
Sufferings alone remain.

’Neath cruel storms of Fate
With my crown of bay,
A sad and lonely life I lead,
Waiting my latest day.

Thus, struck by latter cold
While howls the wintry wind,
Trembles upon the naked bough
The last leaf left behind.

More poems by Alexander Pushkin

Awakening (Pushkin)

O dreams, O dreams,
Where are your delights?
Oh, where are you, …
Elegy 1830 (Pushkin)

⁠The vanished joy of my crazy years
Is as heavy as gloomy hang-over.
But, like wine, the sorrow of past days …
I Loved You Once

I loved you; even now I may confess,
Some embers of my love their fire retain;
But do not let it cause you more distress, …
The Singer (Pushkin)

Did you hear beyond the grove the night voice
Of the singer of love who sings of his sadness?
In the morning, when the fields were silent, …