RUSSIAN:

Otchego `eto prezhde ne znala
Ni toski ja ni gorja, ni slez,
I vse dni protekali, byvalo,
Sredi zvukov nebesnykh i roz? Chut' uslyshu ja ptic shchebetan'e, Chut' teplo ozhivit dalnij bor,
I vezde zazvuchit likovan'e,-
Ja vstupala v torzhestvennyj hor! A teper' vse mne dnem navevaet Neponjatnyj, glubokij uprek,
I ukory sud'be posylaet
Ptichek hor i shumiashchij potok. Otchego `eto nochi molchan'e
I prokhlada mne stali milej? Otchego ja kak budto rydan'ja Slyshu tam, gde poet solovej, Otchego skazhi?

English Translation:

Why before didn't I know
not sorrow, trouble, nor tears,
and all the days that went by
were filled with heavenly sounds and roses?
Barely would I hear birds twittering
and warmly the far forest awakening,
and everywhere resonating celebration,
I joined in the triumphant chorus.
But now all the day brings to me
is unclear, deep reproach,
and birds' songs and noisy floods,
echo fate's reproach.
Why is it, that the quiet of night
and cool air are now please me?
Why, when I hear the nightingale,
it seems a cry and not singing?
Why, tell me?