black shawl

I look, like mad, a black shawl,
I hladnuû soul terzaet sadness.

When the young and gullible I was,
Mladen Greek woman I loved passionately;

Pretty maiden caressed me,
But soon I will live to see a black day.

Once I called a cheerful guests;
He knocked me despicable Jew;

“With you feast (he whispered) friends;
You also yzmenyla Greek yours.”

I gave him and cursed him Zlata
And the faithful called to my servant.

We went out; I raced on a fast horse.
And gentle pity me silent.

As soon as I caught sight of a Greek threshold,
GLASS darkened, I'm all exhausted ...

The rest remote I enter one ...
Wrong maiden kiss Armenian.

I do not vzvidel light; damask thunder ...
Abort kiss villain did not have time.

Headless body a long time I have trodden,
And silence on the maiden, wan, gazed.

I remember molenya ... flowing blood ...
Greek perished, lost love!

With the head of her dead lifting a black shawl,
I silently wiped the bloody steel.

My slave, like it was the evening haze,
In the Danube waves threw their bodies.

Since not kiss lovely eyes,
Since then, I do not know merry nights.

I look, like mad, a black shawl
I hladnuû soul terzaet sadness.

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Alexander Pushkin
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