Alexander Pushkin
A friend of my severe days...

A friend of my severe days,
Decrepit darling dove of mine!
In deep pine woods alone you wait
For me, you wait too long a time.
In your front room under the window
You grieve as if you sentry stand,
And needles linger every minute
In your fatigued and puckered hands.
You look through old forgotten gates
At a pitch-black and distant path:
Depression, premonitions, cares
Oppress incessantly your heart.
It seems to you…