«No moon but a clock-face. How’s it a sin / that while it dazzles my eyes I examine / the muted stars’ milky light? Poet Batyushkov, son to a parson, / how he’d spout on. “What’s the time?” they’d ask him. / “Eternity”, he replied.»
«Oh, heart’s remembrance! You are, yet, / Mush stronger than sad one of reasons; / And, often in a distant land, / Bewitch me with your even sweetness. / I hear the sound of your word, / I see the blue of eyes, so dear, / I see your golden locks, right here, / Of the hair so negligent...»
«My friend! I have seen the sea's menace / And the vengeful sky's cursed punishment: / The despicable deeds of mortal enemies, / Blare of war, catastrophic conflagrations. / I have seen the multitudes of rich men / Fleeing in nothing but tattered rags, / I've seen the weathered faces of m...»
«O memory of heart! you're stronger / Than reminiscence of cool mind; / You captivate my soul much longer, / With images of better kind. / These azure eyes and tender words, / These golden curls — as consolation / From love — for mirthless separation / Are precious memory's rewards....»