Upon The Hills Of Georgia Poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

I'm sad and strangely light; my sadness feeds my hopes,

Aragva roars, stars shine quietly.

The velvet night gloom lies upon the Georgian slopes;

Translation by L.C.,2021. License CC BY-SA 4.0.

Sorry, it should be 'it's not the poet' in the beginning of my comment.

As love is that my heart imposes.

And my heart burns again and truly loves again

I feel no torment and no losses,

Near you, near you alone... With it, in my despair,

Where I'm near you, where you invite me.