Александр Сергеевич Пушкин.
Перевод стихотворения Я помню чудное мгновенье на английский язык.

The Vision

I remember a marvellous instant,
Unto me bending down from above,
Thy radiant vision appearing
As an angel of beauty and love.

'Mid the torments of desperate sadness,
In the torture of bondage and sighs,
To me rang thy voice so beloved -- 
And I dreamed thy miraculous eyes.

But the years rolled along -- and life's tempests
My illusions, my youth overcame,
I forgot that sweet voice full of music -- 
And thy glance like a heavenly flame.

In the covert and grief of my exile,
The days stretched unchanged in their flight,
Bereft inspiration or power,
Bereft both of love and of light.

To my soul now approaches awakening,
To me thou art come from above,
As a radiant and wonderful vision -- 
As an angel of beauty and love.

As before my heart throbs with emotion,
Life looks to me worthy and bright,
And I feel inspiration and power -- 
And again love and tears and the light!

To***

I keep in mind that magic moment:
When you appeared before my eyes
Like ghost, like fleeting apparition,
Like genius of the purest grace.

In torturous hopeless melancholy,
In vanity and noisy fuss
I’ve always heard your tender voice
I saw your features in my dreams.

Years passed away, and blasts of tempests
Have scattered all my previous dreams,
And I forgot your tender voice,
And holy features of your face.

In wilderness, in gloomy capture
My lonely days were slowly drawn:
I had not faith, no inspiration,
No tears, no life, no tender love.

But time has come, my soul awakened,
And you again appeared to me
Like ghost, like fleeting apparition,
Like genius of the purest grace.

My heart again pulsates in rapture,
And everything arouse again:
My former faith, and inspiration,
And tears, and life, and tender love. 

To***

I remember the marvellous moment
you appeared before me,
like a transient vision,
like pure beauty’s spirit.

Lost in hopeless sadness,
lost in the loud world’s turmoil,
I heard your voice’s echo,
and often dreamed your features.

Years passed. The storm winds scattered,
with turbulent gusts, that dreaming.
I forgot your voice, its tenderness.
I forgot your lovely face.

Remote in my darkened exile,
the days dragged by so slowly,
without grace, without inspiration,
without life, without tears, without love.

Then my spirit woke
and you, you appeared again,
like a transient vision,
like pure beauty’s spirit.

And my heart beats with delight,
and ecstasy, inside me,
and grace and inspiration,
and tears, and life, and love.

To A. P. Kern

I call to mind a moment’s glory.
You stood before me, face to face,
Like to a vision transitory,
A spirit of immaculate grace.

In hopeless torments of surrender,
In worldly tumult and alarm,
Your voice long echoed low and tender,
My dreams were of your face’s charm.

Years passed. Rude winds blew all asunder,
Scattered the dreams that once were mine,
And I forgot your voice so tender,
The features of your face divine.

To deserts and to darkness banished,
My days grew long with naught to do;
My God, my inspiration vanished,
My tears, my life, my love for you.

My soul awakened and uprisen,
Again I see you face to face,
Like to a transitory vision,
A spirit of immaculate grace.

My heart beats fast in exultation,
And all for it begins anew,
With God again, and inspiration,
And life, and tears, and love for you.

To ***

That stellar moment I remember:
Before me, sudden, there you were,
A fleeting vision’s dying ember,
The purest height of beauty’s blur.

And when with hopeless sadness tested
Amidst the noisy fuss and flap,
It’s long in tender voice I rested
And let your features round me wrap.

The years went by. And storms’ sedition
My former cherished dreams dispersed,
Your voice evaded recognition,
Your lovely face was now submersed.

In wilderness incarceration
My days were dragging quietly by
Without a god or inspiration,
Or tears, or life, no love was nigh.

And now my soul it did remember:
Again before me there you were,
A fleeting vision’s dying ember,
The purest height of beauty’s blur.

Now beat my heart with exaltation,
In it again were soaring high
A sense of god, new inspiration,
And tears and life, and loving sigh.

Я помню чудное мгновенье

Я помню чудное мгновенье:
Передо мной явилась ты,
Как мимолетное виденье,
Как гений чистой красоты.

В томленьях грусти безнадежной
В тревогах шумной суеты,
Звучал мне долго голос нежный
И снились милые черты.

Шли годы.  Бурь порыв мятежный
Рассеял прежние мечты,
И я забыл твой голос нежный,
Твой небесные черты.

В глуши, во мраке заточенья
Тянулись тихо дни мои
Без божества, без вдохновенья,
Без слез, без жизни, без любви.

Душе настало пробужденье:
И вот опять явилась ты,
Как мимолетное виденье,
Как гений чистой красоты.

И сердце бьется в упоенье,
И для него воскресли вновь
И божество, и вдохновенье,
И жизнь, и слезы, и любовь.

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