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Amateur Peasant Girl: Delia's Thoughts
Continuing on the line of short stories, Pushkin writes three more tales about different social classes and their romantic view upon those who differ. In "Station Master" we find out about a very beautiful girl, who makes the life of a Postmaster easier. One of those who pass by tells the story of his first visit to the station, and of the great impact the girl's beauty and kiss left upon him. In his second visit, he finds out that the beautiful girl ran away with another passer by and that even after her father tried to find her, she didn't come back. The third visit leads him to a different family living in the house, who tell that the old Station Master died, and that his daughter, now a great lady, only came to visit after his death. "The Coffin Maker" starts with the moving of an undertaker in a new house. Invited to a party by one of his neighbors, he gets frustrated that his job is not as appreciated as others and swears to invite all the dead and not the living to his house party, the next day. He dreams that the party actually happens and terrifies him, and the story ends with his awakening.The "Amateur Peasant Girl" is a young lady trying to play a prank on her father's enemy's son. She dresses up as a peasant girl and deliberately meets Alexey (the son). The two fall in love and when they are to be wed as their fathers befriend each other, Alexey finds the true identity of his love.Besides the usual sarcasm, what struck me in the three stories was an allusion to the unhappiness of every class during the times of the stories. Liza, from the "Amateur Peasant Girl" envies her servant and decides to play the role of one in an attempt to taste the freedom of the lower class.
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Remembrance
by Aleksandr Pushkin
When the loud day for men who sow and reap
Grows still, and on the silence of the town
The unsubstantial veils of night and sleep,
The meed of the day's labour, settle down,
Then for me in the stillness of the night
The wasting, watchful hours drag on their course,
And in the idle darkness comes the bite
Of all the burning serpents of remorse;
Dreams seethe; and fretful infelicities
Are swarming in my over-burdened soul,
And Memory before my wakeful eyes
With noiseless hand unwinds her lengthy scroll.
Then, as with loathing I peruse the years,
I tremble, and I curse my natal day,
Wail bitterly, and bitterly shed tears,
But cannot wash the woeful script away.
--Translated by Maurice Baring
From "World Poetry," edited by Katharine Washburn, John S. Major and Clifton Fadiman (W.W. Norton: 1,338 pp.) |