Aleksandr Pushkin

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. 


© Copyright, 1996
Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, August 1995,
Edited by Dmitry Karshtedt, June 1996.