In the silence of the garden, in the darkness of the spring night,
An oriental nightingale sings among the roses,
But the lovely rose doesn't care or listen,
Fall asleep in the melody of love.
Why sing for the cold beauty?
Wake up, poet, what are you pursuing?
She doesn't listen to the poet and doesn't care about the poet's mood;
Look, she is in full bloom; You called, but you didn't get a response
Lyrics from Pushkin, No.63.