Night
By Alexander Pushkin
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

My voice for you is languid, low and light,
Troubling the silence of the dark, late night.
A sullen candle at the pillow's verge
Glows; and my verses murmurously merge
And gush; the brooks of love flow full of you
And in the darkness that your eyes shine through
To smile at me, there are the sounds I hear:
I'm yours....I'm yours....my dear...my only dear.