The Fountain of Bakhchisarai / Alexander Pushkin

Mute sat Giray, with downcast eye, As though some spell in sorrow bound him, His slavish courtiers thronging nigh, In sad expectance stood around him. The lips of all had silence sealed, Whilst, bent on him, each look observant, Saw grief's deep trace and passion fervent Upon his gloomy brow revealed. But the proud Khan his dark eye raising, And on the courtiers fiercely gazing, Gave signal to them to begone! The chief, unwitnessed and alone, Now yields him to his bosom's smart, Deeper upon his brow severe Is traced the anguish of his heart; As full fraught clouds on mirrors clear Reflected terrible appear!

The Shot / Alexander Pushkin

Translated by T. Keane.

CHAPTER I.

We were stationed in the little town of N--. The life of an officer in the army is well known. In the morning, drill and the riding-school; dinner with the Colonel or at a Jewish restaurant; in the evening, punch and cards. In N--- there was not one open house, not a single marriageable girl. We used to meet in each other's rooms, where, except our uniforms, we never saw anything.

The Queen of Spades / Alexander Pushkin

Translated by H. Twitchell

I.

There was a card party at the rooms of Narumov of the Horse Guards.

The long winter night passed away imperceptibly, and it was five

o'clock in the morning before the company sat down to supper. Those

who had won, ate with a good appetite; the others sat staring absently

at their empty plates. When the champagne appeared, however, the

conversation became more animated, and all took a part in it.