TO. BUT. Timasheva

I saw you, I read them,
These lovely creature,
Where your languorous of dream
Worship your ideal.
I drank the poison in your gaze,
The soul full of features,
And your lovely conversation,
And in your ardent verses;
Rivals restricted roses
Blessed is the immortal ideal ...
Stokrat blessed, Who inspired you
Not a lot of rhymes and lots of prose.

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Alexander Pushkin
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