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Pushkin, "Прощание"

A work ("A farewell") by this Russian poet, born two hundred thirteen years ago today.  You can read the original here.

One final time your gentle shape     
In my thoughts I dare to caress;            
And with heart's force these dreams rewake,
In timid, cheerless joy I shake,
And let to me your love regress.  

Our years bring change and then our doom, 
Like everything, so change we both;
For your sweet bard I see you groom'd,
Garbed greyly in sepulchral gloom,
For you a friend lost long ago. 

So distant friend, now please accept, 
From my young heart a last farewell: 
A widowed spouse so now bereft, 
Two friends embrace before they're cleft,
And one retreats to darkest cell. 

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