ABOUT, if it is true, that night,
When buried alive,
And from heaven lunar rays
Slip on the rocks coffin,
ABOUT, if it is true, what then
Emptying quiet grave -
I call shadow, I'm waiting Leily:
To me, my friend, here, here!

Yavys, beloved shadow,
How were you before parting,
faintly, cold, as a winter day,
Distorted last meal.
come, like a distant star,
As a light breath of sound il,
Or like a terrible vision,
I do not care, here! here!..

Call on you not to,
To reproach people, whose anger
I killed my friend,
Or to come to know the secrets of the grave,
Not in order, that sometimes
Tormented with doubts ... but yearning
I want to say, everything that I love,
That all I am your: here, here!

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Alexander Pushkin
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