O if it’s true that in the night,
When rest the living in their havens
And liquid rays of lunar light
Glide down on tombstones from the heavens,
O if it’s true that still and bare
Are then the graves until aurora —
I call the shade, I wait for Laura:
To me, my friend, appear, appear!
Beloved shadow, come to me
As at our parting — wintry, ashen
In your last minutes’ agony;
Emerge in any form or fashion:
A distant star across the sphere,
A gentle sound, a puff of air or
The most appalling wraith of terror,
I care not how: appear, appear!..
I call you — not to speak my scorn
Of people whose ill-fated malice
Has killed my friend, and not to learn
The secrets of the nether-palace,
And not because a doubt may tear
My heart at times… but as I suffer,
I want to say that still I love her,
That still I’m yours: appear, appear!
(Alexander Pushkin)
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Based on Topics: Night Poems, Sadness Poems, Friendship Poems, People Poems, Secrets Poems, Doubt & Skepticism Poems, Fashion PoemsBased on Keywords: ashen, lunar, laura, havens, ill-fated, tombstones, appalling, wraith