Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

(6 June 1799 – 10 February 1837 / Moscow)

The Night - Poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

My voice that is for you the languid one, and gentle,
Disturbs the velvet of the dark night's mantle,
By my bedside, a candle, my sad guard,
Burns, and my poems ripple and merge in flood --
And run the streams of love, run, full of you alone,
And in the dark, your eyes shine like the precious stones,
And smile to me, and hear I the voice:
My friend, my sweetest friend... I love... I'm yours... I'm yours!


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Read poems about / on: friend, sad, dark, smile, alone, night, love, poem, running



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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