*This is a poem by A. Pushkin that I've translated from Russian.
Alas! How come she’s glimmering
With temporary, charming vibe?
It’s evident that she’s withering
While youth is blossoming with life...
Soon she will fade! Life of delight
Not very long she has to treasure;
And not for long will she provide
Her happy family with pleasure.
Her mellow wit will not abide
To energize our conversations
And with her soul, she won’t subside
The sufferer’s lamentations.
I hurry, still distraught in thought,
Concealing all of my dejection,
To catch her every cheerful word
And to delight in her perfection.
I watch her move, with admiration,
Percieve each sound from her soul
From every moment’s separation
My tender heart becomes appalled.
"I will not whole die, my soul in sacred lyre,
will outlive my dust and will escape decay,
And in the moonlit sphere, my glory will not tire
As long as poets still remain" A. Pushkin