In the ocean of air,
Without helm or any sail,
So quietly are floating
Planets - a choir celestial.
There amidst the vast fields rambling,
In the skies without trace,
Fibrous flocks of clouds gentle,
Imperceptible in race.
And the hour of meeting,
As well as the parting one,
Does not give them joy or pity,
Cold to future or to past.
In the day of mortal anguish
You should recollect their fly,
Being as they are - impassive,
And light-hearted - as they are.
When night spreads over its cover
The mountains Caucasian,
As soon as world, caught by the charming
Of mystic word, in silence sleeps;
As soon as wind above the mountains
Stirs faded grass, scaring a bird,
Which rises up, breaking the darkness
With throbbing wings, and brings a joy;
And under vine, with thirst, is gulping
The dew of heavens in the night
The flower, in blossom wondeful;
As soon as from behind the mountain
The golden moon appears silent
And stealthily looks at you, lovely, -
Then I will fly to to you, my dear,
And stay till dawn, and call up dreams
On your eyelashes, soft and silky,
I'll be with you all time, for real.