Alexander Pushkin

Let Him, Who's Crowned By

Let him, who's crowned by the love of charming girls, Save their features in the sacred golden folds, And secret letters - grants of long-time passion; But in the hour of bitter separation, Nothing returns to heart its former warmth and light, And not a single gift, that's sent by my sweetheart -- The holy pledge of love, delight of gentle sadness -- Could heal the wounds of love -- of helplessness and madness. Translated by Yevgeny Bonver

Don't have an account?

You will be identified by the alias - name will be hidden