Here you will find the Poem The Dream of poet Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov
In noon's heat, in a dale of Dagestan With lead inside my breast, stirless I lay; The deep wound still smoked on; my blood Kept trickling drop by drop away. On the dale's sand alone I lay. The cliffs Crowded around in ledges steep, And the sun scorched their tawny tops And scorched me - but I slept death's sleep. And in a dream I saw an evening feast That in my native land with bright lights shone; Among young women crowned with flowers, A merry talk concerning me went on. But in the merry talk not joining, One of them sat there lost in thought, And in a melancholy dream Her young soul was immersed - God knows by what. And of a dale in Dagestan she dreamt; In that dale lay the corpse of one she knew; Within his breast a smoking wound showed black, And blood ran in a stream that colder grew.