To thee my heart is silent, while beyond thee
With her I hold mysterious utterance.
I speak with her, my friend of earlier blisses;
In your soft lines another’s form I trace.
On living lips I press long-silent kisses;
In your sweet eyes I see a vanished face.
DISPUTE.[4]
Once, before a tribal meeting
Of the mountain throng,
Kazbek-hill with Shat-the-mountain[5]