O dreams, my dreams,
Where is your sweetness?
Where are you,
Joy of nightly fleetness?
They’re gone away –
My fancies, gay,
And now alone
In darkness grown
I, sleepless, stay.

A mute night hovers
My bed above
In a flash lone
Turned cool and gone
Dreams of my love,
Like a tense crowd.
But still heart beats
The longings’ sound
And catches bits
Of dreams around.

Love, hear my plea,
Hark to my prayer:
Send back to me
Your visions, fair,
And by morn sky,
Again enchanted,
Let . . . Let me die
Still unawaken’d.

Translated by Yevgeny Bonver
(Contributed by ivan on Tuesday, February 8th, 2011)
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Also By Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin


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