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Alexander Pushkin - The Cart of Life
Work rating: Medium

Though hard is a burden in it sometime,
The cart is light at fair speed;                          
The driver is dashing, grey-haired Time,
Drives on, not getting off the seat.                            

At dawn we spring up on the cart;
We gladly risk our own neck              
And, having scorned sloth and delight, 
Call: off you go! For God`s sake.*

At noon there are no former nerves; 
Having been jolted, more we dread   
All those slopes and steeps, and curves;
We shout: not so fast, blockhead!

Same as before the cart is on its way;
We do get used to it when evening closes,
And dozing off we come to the night’s stay,
While Time drives on the sturdy horses.

Translated by Emil Sharafutdinov (Emil S. on allpoetry)
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