The Young Roses Of Her Cheeks Are Flame-Like And Shy

Should I tell you whom I love,
Where my dreams fly to,
Languishing, then exulting
Among the midnight darkness?
She – is the queen of my soul –
And headstrong and proud;
But the day-star compared to her eyes –
Is just an ordinary star.
She looks insensitive
On passionate looks and on the tears;
But the young roses of her cheeks
Are flame-like and shy…

Nikolay Yazikov

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