Alexandr Sergeyvich Pushkin Born in Moscow Worked in government, but was banished to South Russia, on the Crimea because of his political poems. Lived on the Black Sea Famous for poetry as well as a novel in verse; “Eugene Onegin.”

The Hills of Georgia The hills of Georgia are covered by the night; Ahead Aragva runs through stone, My feeling's sad and light; my sorrow is bright; My sorrow is full of you alone, Of you, of only you... My everlasting gloom Meets neither troubles nor resistance. Again inflames and loves my poor heart, for whom Without love, 'tis no existence.

In 1823, Pushkin was transferred to Odessa, where his life was more filled with social activities, such as the opera. But after a letter was intercepted in which he supported atheism, Pushkin was transferred again, this time to North Russia. Though he was freed from Exile by Nicholas I in 1826, he was not allowed to travel or publish without permission.

Pushkin is also famous for “Mozart and Salieri,” a fictionalization in play format of the struggle between the two men. This story has become known as a musical “urban legend.” The movie “Amadeus” was based on the Peter Schaffer play of the same name, but the poem is reminiscent of the same themes as those found in the play: Salieri’s frustration at seeing genius in so “low” a character as Mozart. Salieri’s belief that his discipline and lifetime in music should have been rewarded by God. Salieri’s final push – poisoning Mozart. Mozart and Salieri

Though Pushkin had taken his place at court, he had married a beautiful woman who proved to be his downfall. Mme. Pushkina, Natalia Goncharova, was pursued by and fell in love with d’Anthes-Heeckeren, who Pushkin later accused of writing a letter calling him a cuckold. Pushkin challenged d’Anthes to a duel.

Pushkin lost the duel, though he did manage to wound d’Anthes. Pushkin died two days after the duel.

To a Poet A poet! Do not prize the love of people around, It soon will pass -- the glorifying hum – And come a court of fools and laughing of cold crowd – But you must always stay firm, morose and calm. You're king: live lonesome. Along the freedom's road, Stride there, to where just shows your free mind, While modernizing fruits of thoughts, beloved, And not demanding you to be awarded. Awards inside of you. You are your highest court; Severely then all, you value your effort. Well, are you satisfied, oh, my severe artist? You're satisfied. Then let the mob condemn your verse, Spit at the altar, where your fire burns, And toss your brass tripod with somewhat childish wildness.

Sources: hkin_ind.html