( by Mikhail Lermontov, 1840
Translated by Anatoly Liberman )

( by Natalia Hizhnyak )

I am disconsolate, because I love you so,
Because the wicked world, unscrupulous and low,
Will crush your bloom, inflicting pain and torment,
You’ll pay with misery for every tender moment,
For every happy day, for every joy on earth;
I am disconsolate… because I see your mirth.
* * *

2 thoughts on “Wherefore?

  1. Freedomtobe says:

    I have loved like that. Thanks for finding these beautiful and forgotten gems.

    • Otrazhenie says:

      Beautiful, but luckily not forgotten in Russia. Lermontov’s poetry is still taught in all Russian schools. When I was at school, we had his portrait on the wall in our classroom. I fell in love with his poetry then. When other teenage girls were crazy about famous gymnasts, tennis or soccer stars, I was thinking about Lermontov’s sad brown eyes and his poetry. He looked so thoughtful and so caring on his portrait. It always amazed me how much poetry he got created in his very brief life – he was killed when he was only 26 years old…

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