Alexander Pushkin

Night over Georgia; mist across the heights. Loud flows the Argava River above. Only my chained and prancing heart's distress remains intense, a pain so filled with you-- totally you--that all its darkness lights. How can I help, combustible anew, but live in love, even a bitter love?-- being powerless to live in lovelessness. By Alexander Pushkin Translated from the Russian by Peter Viereck

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