Alexander Pushkin

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. Translated by Yevgeny Bonver

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