Young woman with hydrangea flowers

Everything in her is harmony, everything is wonderful,
Higher and higher than peace and passions;
She rests bashfully
In its solemn beauty;
She looks around herself:
She has no rivals, no friends;
Our pale circle beauties
In her radiance disappears.
Wherever you hurry
At least for a love date
Whatever in my heart I have
You are a secret dream, -
But when you meet her, embarrassed, you
Suddenly you stop involuntarily
Reverently
Before the shrine of beauty.
Alexander Pushkin
Jules Louis Machard artist