Trapped behind bars, in dampness I dwell.
A young-hearted eagle brought up in a cell,
My dejected companion, under the frame,
Continues to peck at the red, bloody game,
He pecks at it, flings it and then, looks outside,
As if we have reached a consensus by sight.
He summons me then with a look and a cry, -
He wants to pronounce: «Away, let us fly!
We're born to be free, let’s leave, friend, it’s time!
Where, through the clouds, the mountains shine,
Where azure seas rush to merge with the sky,
Where only the wind dares to wander....and I!...»
By Alexander Pushkin
Translation by Andrey Kneller