Pushkin A swarthy youth rambled by the forelorn lakeshore. A century passes, and we hear his crackle on the path. Pine needles, thick, thorny, bury the stumps of the trees... Here lay his tricorn hat, his dog-eared verses by Parny. by Anna Akhmatova 1911 Tsarskoye Selo Translated by Stanley Kunitz and Max Hayward Return to Akhmatova Index Return to Russian Poets index