Happy Birthday, Aleksandr Sergeevich!

On this day in 1799 Aleksandr Sergeyevich Pushkin was born in Moscow. Pushkin, the father of Russian literature and literary Russian as a language, was beloved in his lifetime - when he died as the result of a duel the government feared rioting. Instead, there was national mourning... Ruslan and Lyudmila, Eugene Onegin, The Captain's Daughter, Boris Godunov, and countless poems ...

Vladimir Nabokov once wrote, "Russians know the conceptions of 'homeland' and 'Pushkin' are inseparable. ... To be Russian means to love Pushkin."

Winter Evening

The storm covers the sky with darkness,
Snow circles in whirling eddies;
Now it howls, like a wild beast,
Now it cries, like a lost child,
Now it whistles sharply
Through the decaying thatch on the roof,
Now, like a traveller overdue,
It knocks upon our window pane.

In our decrepit little cottage
It's gloomy and it's dark.
Granny, why do you sit so, close to the window
And wrapped so deep in silence?
Has the howling of the storm
Wearied you at last, dear friend?
Or have you been lulled into sleep
By the drone of your spinning wheel?

Let's drink, dearest friend,
Drink to my poor youth.
Let's drink from grief - Where's the glass?
Our hearts will be merry.
Sing me a song about a bluetit
Peacefully dwelling across the sea.
Sing me a song about a young girl
Going to fetch water in the morning.

The storm covers the sky with darkness,
Snow circles in whirling eddies;
Now it howls, like a wild beast,
Now it cries, like a lost child;
Let's drink, dearest friend,
Drink to my poor youth.
Let's drink from grief - Where's the glass?
Our hearts will be merry.

Зимний Вечер

Буря мглою небо кроет,
Вихри снежние крутя;
То как звер, она завоет,
То заплачет как дитя,
То по кровле обветшалой
Вдруг соломой зашумит,
То, как путник запоздалый,
К нам в окошко застучит.

Наша ветхая лачужка
И печальна, и темна.
Что ж ты, моя старушка,
Приумолкла у окна?
ИЛи бури завыванъем
Ты, мой друг, утомлена,
Или дремлешь под жужжанем
Своего веретена?

Выпьем, добрая подружка
Бедной юности моей,
Выпьем с горя: где же кружка?
Серцу будет веселей.
Спой мне песню, как синица
Тихо за морем жила;
Спой мне песню, как девица
За водной по утру шла.

Буря мглою небо кроет,
Вихри снежние крутя;
То как звер, она завоет,
То заплачет как дитя,
Выпьем, добрая подружка
Бедной юности моей,
Выпьем с горя: где же кружка?
Серцу будет веселей.