Александр Сергеевич Пушкин.
Перевод стихотворения Демон на английский язык.

The Demon

In those days, when life’s displays
moved me with their freshness still —
a young girl’s glance, the rustling glades,
the nightingale’s sweet midnight trill —
when elevated feelings shone,
freedom, glory, purest love,
and the Muse’s inspiration,
stirred profoundly in my blood —
my years of hope grew darker,
my joys were dimmed by longing,
for then some evil spirit started
to come to me in secret meeting.
The hours we spent were mournful:
his smile mysterious, and his gaze,
while his cold poison chilled my soul,
his caustic speech, his bitter ways.
With slander’s endless stream,
he tempted Providence;
called all beauty but a dream;
inspiration: mind robbed of sense;
he scorned both love and liberty;
the whole of life he ridiculed —
found not a single thing that he
might praise in all that Nature ruled. 

My demon

In those days when new to me were
Of existence all impressions:—
The maiden's glances, the forests' whisper,
The song of nightingale at night;
When the sentiments elevated
Of Freedom, glory and of love,
And of art the inspiration
Stirred deeply so my blood:—
My hopeful hours and joyful
With melancholy sudden dark'ning
A certain evil spirit then
Began in secret me to visit.
Grievous were our meetings,
His smile, and his wonderful glance,
His speeches, these so stinging
Cold poison poured into my soul.
Providence with slander
Inexhaustible he tempted;
Of Beauty as a dream he spake
And inspiration he despised;
Nor love, nor freedom trusted he,
On life with scorn he looked—
And nought in all nature
To bless he ever wished. 

Демон

В те дни, когда мне были новы
Все впечатленья бытия -
И взоры дев, и шум дубровы,
И ночью пенье соловья,-
Когда возвышенные чувства,
Свобода, слава и любовь
И вдохновенные искусства
Так сильно волновали кровь,-
Часы надежд и наслаждений
Тоской внезапной осеня,
Тогда какой-то злобный гений
Стал тайно навещать меня.
Печальны были наши встречи:
Его улыбка, чудный взгляд,
Его язвительные речи
Вливали в душу хладный яд.
Неистощимой клеветою
Он провиденье искушал;
Он звал прекрасное мечтою;
Он вдохновенье презирал;
Не верил он любви, свободе;
На жизнь насмешливо глядел -
И ничего во всей природе
Благословить он не хотел.

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