*This is another one of my translations of A. Pushkin.
The empty “you” for “thee”-- so mild,
By chance, she swapped in dialogue
And all the dreams that I’ve compiled
Within my loving soul evoked.
I stand before her very humbly,
To look aside -- I do not dare;
I say to her: “you” are so fair!
And gravely think: How much I love “thee!”
"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