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Alexander Pushkin - The Night
Work rating: Medium

My voice that is for you the languid one, and gentle,
Disturbs the velvet of the dark night`s mantle,
By my bedside, a candle, my sad guard,
Burns, and my poems ripple and merge in flood —
And run the streams of love, run, full of you alone,
And in the dark, your eyes shine like the precious stones,
And smile to me, and hear I the voice:
My friend, my sweetest friend… I love… I`m yours… I`m yours!
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