Александр Сергеевич Пушкин.
Перевод стихотворения Зимний вечер на английский язык.

A Winter Evening

Sable clouds by tempest driven,
Snowflakes whirling in the gales,
Hark -- it sounds like grim wolves howling,
Hark -- now like a child it wails!
Creeping through the rustling straw thatch,
Rattling on the mortared walls,
Like some weary wanderer knocking -- 
On the lowly pane it falls.

Fearsome darkness fills the kitchen,
Drear and lonely our retreat,
Speak a word and break the silence,
Dearest little Mother, sweet!
Has the moaning of the tempest
Closed thine eyelids wearily?
Has the spinning wheel's soft whirring
Hummed a cradle song to thee?

Sweetheart of my youthful Springtime,
Thou true-souled companion dear -- 
Let us drink! Away with sadness!
Wine will fill our hearts with cheer.
Sing the song how free and careless
Birds live in a distant land -- 
Sing the song of maids at morning
Meeting by the brook's clear strand!

Sable clouds by tempest driven,
Snowflakes whirling in the gales,
Hark -- it sounds like grim wolves howling,
Hark -- now like a child it wails!
Sweetheart of my youthful Springtime,
Thou true-souled companion dear,
Let us drink! Away with sadness!
Wine will fill our hearts with cheer!

Winter Evening

Storm clouds dim the sky; the tempest
Weaves the snow in patterns wild;
Like a beast the gale is howling
And now wailing like a child;
On the worn old roof it rustles
The piled thatch, and then again
Like a traveler belated
Knocks upon the windowpane.

Sad and dark our shabby cottage,
Indoors not a sound is heard.
Nanny, sitting at the window,
Can't you give me just a word?
What is wrong, dear? Are you wearied
By the wind, so loud and rough?
Or the buzzing of your distaff —
Has that set you dozing off?

Let us drink, dear old companion,
You who shared my sorry start;
Get the mug and drown our troubles:
That's the way to cheer the heart.
Sing the ballad of the titmouse
That beyond the seas had gone,
Or the song about the maiden
Fetching water just at dawn.

Storm clouds dim the sky; the tempest
Weaves the snow in patterns wild;
Like a beast the gale is howling
And now wailing like a child.
Let us drink, dear old companion,
You who shared my sorry start;
Get the mug and drown our troubles:
That's the way to cheer the heart.

Winter Evening

    (To His Old Nurse)

In black skies a storm is streaming,
Snowy whirlwind, rude and wild,
Like a savage beast now screaming,
Now lamenting like a child,
On the roof dilapidated
Shakes the thatch with sudden shocks,
Like a traveller belated
Loudly on the window knocks.

Our poor hut is old and crazy,
Melancholy and unlit.
Why, old friend, so still and lazy,
By the window do you sit?
Is there nothing you remember?
Has the loud wind struck you dumb?
Are you dropping off to slumber
With the spindle’s drowsy hum?

Let us drink, my friend, unshrinking
Helper in young manhood’s pain.
Where’s the cup? Grief calls for drinking!
Hearts will now be glad again!
Sing the Tomtit ever watching
Silently beyond the sea,
Sing the Maiden who went fetching
Water, — in the dawn went she.

In black skies a storm is streaming,
Snowy whirlwind, rude and wild,
Like a savage beast now screaming,
Now lamenting like a child.
Let us drink, my friend, unshrinking
Helper in young manhood’s pain.
Where’s the cup? Grief calls for drinking!
Hearts will now be glad again!

Winter Evening

The storm covers skies in darkness,
Spinning snowy whirlwinds tight,
Now it wails like a beast wildest,
Now it cries like a week child,
Now suddenly it rustles
The old roof’s dry thatching mass,
Now, a traveller, late and gusty,
It knocks at our window’s glass.

Our hut, poor and unstable,
Is the dark and sad to feel.
Why, are you, my little old lady,
Silent at the window-sill?
Are you tired, o my dear,
By the howling of the storm,
Or just dozing while you hear
The still hum your spindle from?

Let us drink, o comrade, dear,
Of my youth, so poor and hard, —
‘Gainst our woe; is a cup here?
It will cheer the saddened heart.
Sing a song about a blue-tit,
Which, beyond the sea, lived well,
Or about the maiden, bloomed,
Who went early to a well.

The storm covers skies with darkness,
Spinning snowy whirlwinds tight;
Now it wails like a beast wildest,
Now it cries like a week child.
Let us drink, o comrade dear
Of my youth, so poor and hard, —
‘Gainst our woe; is a cup here?
It will cheer the saddened heart.

Зимний вечер

Буря мглою небо кроет,
Вихри снежные крутя;
То, как зверь, 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 же ты, моя старушка,
Приумолкла у окна?
Или бури завываньем
Ты, мой друг, утомлена,
Или дремлешь под жужжаньем
Своего веретена?

Выпьем, добрая подружка
Бедной юности моей,
Выпьем с горя; где же кружка?
Сердцу будет веселей.
Спой мне песню, как синица
Тихо за морем жила;
Спой мне песню, как девица
За водой поутру шла.

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

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