Jump to content

Page:Poems, Alexander Pushkin, 1888.djvu/88

From Wikisource
This page has been validated.
82
Poems: Narrative.

THE BLACK SHAWL.

III. 83.

I gaze demented on the black shawl
And my cold soul is torn by grief.


When young I was and full of trust
I passionately loved a young Greek girl.


The charming maid, she fondled me,
But soon I lived the black day to see.


Once as were gathered my jolly guests
A detested Jew knocked at my door.


Thou art feasting (he whispered) with friends
But betrayed thou art by thy Greek maid.


Moneys I gave him and curses,
And called my servant the faithful.


We went: I flew on the wings of my steed;
And tender mercy was silent in me.


Her threshold no sooner I espied
Dark grew my eyes, and my strength departed.