Pushkin, "К сну"

A work ("Sleep") by this Russian poet of genius.  You can read the original here.

O sleep, my old and dearest friend, 
The guardian of my weary bones,  
Where are you now? Plain roof will bend 
To peaceful bed above the stones,  
In silent night and wordless tones.

Come by and blow out my last light,   
And bless the dreams that dance and sway; 
By morn shall joy have gained in might,  
That joy of love both bold and fey. 

Keep memory from lonely plight,
That sad decree of farewell's choice,    
And let me know my dearest sight,       
And let me hear my dearest voice!         

When darkest night spreads black above,
And you cast eyes upon my soul: 
If only it could forget love 
Until new night has taken hold!