Semyon Yakovlevich Nadson. (№ 423850)

Again a moonlit night, only a moonlit night in a foreign land,
The whole bay is doused with silver drowned in fog;
Blue Mountains semicircle leaned towards the flowering valley,
And a little breathes the faces of cypresses, and palm trees, and olives.
Let the beauty of this wonderful nature not pull me,
This distance does not call, this sea air does not intoxicate,
And as a prisoner in prison thirsts for light and thirsts for freedom,
So I thirst for the fatherland, the fatherland of my dear