Page:Poems, Alexander Pushkin, 1888.djvu/88

82 THE BLACK SHAWL.

demented on the black shawl

And my cold soul is torn by grief.

When young I was and full of trust

I passionately loved a young Greek girl.

The charming maid, she fondled me,

But soon I lived the black day to see.

Once as were gathered my jolly guests

A detested Jew knocked at my door.

Thou art feasting (he whispered) with friends

But betrayed thou art by thy Greek maid.

Moneys I gave him and curses,

And called my servant the faithful.

We went: I flew on the wings of my steed;

And tender mercy was silent in me.

Her threshold no sooner I espied

Dark grew my eyes, and my strength departed.