Prisoner

by Aleksandr Sergeyevich Pushkin
              (1799-1837)

I sit in a dungeon with a downcast face
And see a young eagle in captivity raised,
While flapping his wing, my companion in woe
Is tearing his meal by my window alone.

He pecks for a while and then glances inside,
As if we have both the same thing in mind,
With a longing expression and a piercing cry
He calls me and wants to cry out:  "Let's fly!

     Two carefree birds:  let's fly, friend, it's time!
To the distant white mountain that hides in the sky,
To the faraway ridges of ocean tides,
To a place where the wind only goes...and I!"

                                 --translated by Alexander Shaumyan