After leaving the Pushkin Museum we walked in the bitter cold to La Taifas, one of the restaurants we wanted to take Ramsay when he came for a visit. And before heading back to the apartment we stopped off at Roberts Coffee.
It was snowing outside as we sat and savoured our lattes. This also gave us an opportunity to read the poems that we were given at the Pushkin Museum. Here is "Winter Evening"
Winter Evening, Pushkin
O'er the earth a storm is prowling,
Bringing whirling, blinding snow.
Like a beast I hear it howling,
Like an infant wailing low.
Now the thatch it rustles, playing
On our roof; now at our pane
Raps like someone homeward straying
And benighted in the plain.
Old our hut is, dark and dreary,
By a candle dimly lit. . .
Why so sad, my dear, and weary
At the window do you sit?
Is't because the storm is moaning
That so very still you keep?
Does your spindle's mournful droning
Put you quietly to sleep?
Come, O comrade solitary
Of this cheerless youth of mine,
Take a cup, and let us bury
All our many woes in wine!
Of a maid out by a river
Sing a little song to me
Or a tomtit, one that never
Leaves its home beyond the sea
O'er the earth a storm is prowling,
Bringing whirling, blinding snow.
Like a beast I hear it howling,
Like an infant wailing low.
Come, O comrade solitary
Of this cheerless youth of mine,
Take a cup and let us bury
All our many woes in wine!
My blood's aflame! Desire and yearning
O'erwhelm me: stung this heart of mine.
O kiss me, love! Your kisses burning
Are sweeter far than myrrh or wine.
Lay your head, dear one, on my breast,
And blithe and happy will I rest
Till the first breath of cheerful day
The shades of nighttime drives away.
1825
