When I was just a little girl
I saw his portrait on a wall.
And every time I went to bed
My granny came to me and read
About Goldfish in the sea,
A Princess-Swan I’d like to see,
And thirty three stout-hearted knights,
Who came from sea with morning tides.
His poems made a kind of port
Which led me into fairy world.

Days passed. First love obsessed my mind.
I looked for words, but couldn’t find.
My feelings I could not express
Were squashing soul like a press.
A book of poems on my shelf
Brought me salvation from myself:
Sweet tender words that made me fly,
Unknown freedom I could try,
And passion sparks between the lines,
And tears of love and secret sighs,
Emotion triumphs, broken hearts,
And hidden rules of loving arts.

I shut my book. It’s still at hand.
So this is not the story’s end,
For every one of us is called
To visit Pushkin’s varied world.