honorableangel on Collarspace

7/6/2008 5:21:35 AM

I love you so, I know it's madness,
I know it's toil and shameful vanity,
I know its vast stupidity,
But here at your knees I must confess.
It does not suit my looks or years,
It's more than time I should be wise,
But by all the signs I recognise
The pain of love, its sighs and tears.
Without you, I am lost, I yawn,
When you are near I'm melancholy,
I want to speak, the words are gone,
My angel, you are all that's holy!
When from the hall I hear the sound
Of your soft footstep, or your dress,
Or your sweet voice's innocence,
My heart crumbles, I am all a mess.
If you should smile - it's heaven for me,
You turn away - it seems eternity;
In days of sadness, the only solace,
Is your pale hand, or your sweet face.
When at the sewing frame you sit
Diligently bending over it,
Your hair and eyelids lowering,
Then in amazement I sit wondering,
Tenderly, silently, like a child.
Should I then tell you of my grief?
What use to you would be my talk,
My jealous love, my awkwardness,
When, on a clouded day, you dress
To take a stroll or lengthy walk?
Your tears when all alone you stray,
Or sometimes when we talk together,
Your journeys out in wind and weather,
At the piano when you sit and play,
I love it all. Alina dearest,
Have pity on me, sweet, I pray,
I dare not ask for love, I may not,
Perhaps I am not worthy of it,
My angel, for my sins forbid it.
At least pretend! For your glance so holy
Always could wondrously prove love.
Deceive me then, by the heavens above
I yearn for it, I die, your look alone will save me.

c 1826.

Alexander Pushkin 1799 - 1837.