An Old Favorite

I ran across this poem today, an old favorite by Alexander Pushkin:

I loved you; even now I may confess,

   Some embers of my love their fire retain;

But do not let it cause you more distress,

   I do not want to sadden you again.

Hopeless and tonguetied, yet I loved you dearly

   With pangs the jealous and the timid know;

So tenderly I loved you, so sincerely,

   I pray God grant another love you so.

Alexander Pushkin in about 1825

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