Here Pushkin's endless exile has begun, <br />And Lermontov's exile turned out fatal, <br />The mountain grass has a smell so sweet and gentle, <br />And only once I managed to discern, <br />By the lake under the dense shade of a chinara, <br />In the early evening and ferocious trice <br />The glare of insatiable dark eyes <br />Of the immortal lover of Tamara.<br /><br />Anna Akhmatova<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/here-pushkin-s-endless-exile-has-begun/
