By Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin
Oh dreams, my dreams,
Where is your sweetness?
Where are you, where
The night's delight?
The joyful dream
Has gone, and deeply
I'm in darkness, single,
Was awakened. Round
The bed there is the night
So mute. Again I feel,
That all my dreams of love
Have flied, as crowd reel.
The soul's still is overfilled
With my desires and dares
To catch the recollected dream.
O Love, my Love! Please, heed
My prays sincere: please, do give
Your images. And in the morning
I'm, fed with it, could die,
While dozing...
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