Page:Poems, Alexander Pushkin, 1888.djvu/111

Rh Sad I feel and weary.&hellip; On the morrow, Nina,

To my beloved I returning

Forget myself shall by the fire

And scarce eno' at her shall gaze.

Loudly of my watch the spring

Its measured circle is completing

And us the parter of the wearied,

Midnight, not shall separate.

Sad I 'm, Nina; my journey 's weary;

Slumbering now, my driver is quiet

The little bell is monotonous

And darkened now is the moon's face.