"The Gypsies in the noisy throng
Stray Bessarabia around.
Today over the river, long,
They’re lodging in their tents, worn out.
Like freedom their night-resting is –
And peaceful sleep the heavens under.
Between the wagons’ tired wheels,
Covered with rugs, long-used in wonders,
A fire’s flamed. A family’s Preparing, round it, a dinner;
A horse is gazing in the fields, Is sleeping, free, a teamed bear-thriller.
Amidst the steppes all well lives: The peaceful tasks of families,
Ready by morning for a travel,
And songs of wives, and children’ weeps,
And ringing of a mobile anvil.
But now, over the Gipsy camp,
The dozing silence is prevailing,
And heard is, in the sleeping steppe,
Just a dog’s barking and steed’s neighing.
Extinguished is each single light,
All’s peaceful now. The moon is shining,
Alone in the heaven height, And at the quiet camp is lighting."
--Aleksandr Puskin "The Gypsies" (1824)
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Poem retrieved from https://www.poetryloverspage.com/yevgeny/pushkin/gypsies.html