Alexander Pushkin Poems

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O sing, fair lady, when with me
Sad songs of Georgia no more:
They bring into my memory
Another life, a distant shore.

Your beautiful, your cruel tune
Brings to my memory, alas,
The steppe, the night - and with the moon
Lines of a far, unhappy lass.

Forgetting at the sight of you
That shadow fateful, shadow dear,
I hear you singing - and anew
I picture it before me, here.

O sing, fair lady, when with me
Sad songs of Georgia no more:
They bring into my memory
Another life, a distant shore.

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