Under the blue sky of her motherland Pushkin (Russia) Under the blue sky of her motherland, she is already haggard and withered... Finally withered, maybe there is a young ghost flying above my head; but We have a limit that is difficult to cross. I tried in vain to arouse my emotions: the news of her death came from cold lips, and I listened indifferently. This is the person I loved with a fiery heart. I loved so passionately, so deeply, so tenderly, yet so depressed, so crazyly, and so painfully! Where is the pain, where is the love? In my heart, For that poor gullible soul, For the sweet memory of those years gone, I neither shed nor reproached.
Hope this helps.