My Pushkin, Our Pushkin

Everyone has their own vision of Pushkin.

Russians, of course, think Pushkin is “the Pride”, “the Sun of Russian poetry.”

The French, I am told, appreciate Pushkin’s prose more than his poetry. It is not really clear why. Perhaps because prose is easier to translate. Or perhaps because it is hard for the French to admit that such fine verses were written by a poet so nonchalantly killed by a French bon vivant.