She’s beauty, harmony, and wonder –
Above desires of this world,
In splendor’s aura dwelling under
A veil of modesty untold;
Her gaze traverses halls and faces,
No lass to rival or befriend –
Our beauties pale and serve no end
Before her brilliant, noble graces.
Wherever fate may spur you on –
Perhaps to rendezvous of passion,
Whatever sacred, cherished song
Your heart may nurture in compassion…
But then you meet her, and your gaze
Is held in timeless adoration
Of this angelic revelation,
An icon of celestial grace.
Alexander Pushkin, 1832