Remembrance · Sat Mar 4, 10:22 PM

This is a translation of a poem by Aleksandr Pushkin. The book containing the translation is out of print, and I haven’t managed to find a copy despite extensive searching (I checked out a copy a long time ago, and had copied this poem down). So…here it is:

Remembrance

When noisy day at last is quieted
  And on the hushed streets of the town,
Half diaphane, night’s shadow lies, and sleep,
  The wage of toil, is handed down,
Then in the silence how the hours drag out
  My weary vigil; then up start
Snakes of remorse nocturnal torpor wakes
  To livelier flame that stings the heart.
Dreams eddying, surge; anguish crowds the mind
  With wounding thoughts that press too close;
In silence memory unrolls for me
  A scroll as long as it is gross;
I read and loathe the record of the years,
  Shake, curse the grim display;
My groans are bitter, bitter are the tears
  That wash no sorry line away.

—Aleksandr Pushkin

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Death Knocks on the Door, I Answer, But the Doctors Tell Him to Go Away. No presentation???