As of senses bereft, at a black shawl I stare, <br />And my chill heart is tortured with deadly despair. <br /> <br />When dreaming too fondly in credulous youth, <br />I loved a Greek maiden with passion and truth. <br /> <br />My Greek girl was gentle and loving and fair; <br />But my joy quickly sank in a day of despair. <br /> <br />Once I feasted gay friends; ere the banquet was o'er <br />A Jew, the accursed, softly knocked at my door. <br /> <br />'Thou art laughing,' he whispered,'in pleasure's mad whirl; <br />But she hath betrayed thee, thy young Grecian girl.' <br /> <br />I cursed him; but gold as a guerdon I gave, <br />And took as companion my trustiest slave. <br /> <br />My swift charger I mounted; at once we depart, <br />And the soft voice of pity was stilled in my heart. <br /> <br />The Greek maiden's dwelling I hardly could mark, <br />For my limbs they grew faint, and my eyes they grew dark. <br /> <br />I silently entered—alone and amazed; <br />An Armenian was kissing the girl as I gazed. <br /> <br />I saw not the light; but I seized my good blade; <br />The betrayer ne'er finished the kiss that betrayed. <br /> <br />On his warm, headless body I trampled, then spurn'd, <br />And silent and pale to the maiden I turned. <br /> <br />I remember her prayers—in her blood how she strove; <br />Then perished my Greek girl—then perished my love. <br /> <br />I tore the black shawl from her head as she lay, <br />Wiped the blood-dripping weapon, and hurried away. <br /> <br />When the mists of the evening rose gloomy, my slave <br />Threw each corpse in the Danube's dark fastrolling wave. <br /> <br />Since then no bewildering eyes can delight; <br />Since then I forbear festive banquets at night. <br /> <br />As of senses bereft, at a black shawl I stare, <br />And my chill heart is tortured with deadly despair.<br /><br />Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-black-shawl/
