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

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The Winter-Road.

Sad I feel and weary.… 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.