a poem for pushkin

Seek of death in love of honor

To shelter her, all close and cozy no choice is left rather than the dwell
"'Go forth,' said Love
Natalya’s trysting tree by the glimmer shadow of d'Anthès
But She is glad,
Water the greedy rose with thee blood
But, natalya she means more than love to me
though rumors had her with d’anthes
But she will remember me
Even till the day she die.
So gave I Love the lie.

Looking at the black river
Pushkin speaking to me:
'Oh, stranger, be mute;
Let that one name be dead
Both d’Anthes and Natalya
That memory flown and fled,
That lure, some call love
It kills, both its presence and lack
Go forth! stranger
With thee mind clear of such thoughts
Dead blossoms of love
Blown from the sunless land.

Pushkin said:
I owe natalya, the memory of love,
Which came in place of death,
A common thought was
‘where will fate send death to me? In battle, in my travels, or on the seas? Or will the neighbouring valley Receive my chilled ashes?’

Natalya, when she win a smile from me,
She fancy I forget.
Honor reminded me the death
‘I say to myself: the years are fleeting, And however many there seem to be, We must all go under the eternal vault, And someone's hour is already at hand’

aristocrat take you for a mad
Depressed and obsessed,
‘They hint that I am not the blessed’
But heed not what they say.
perhaps, they struggles with
ever lasting bubble