Golden Little Cloud Had Night For Sleeping By Mikhail Lermontov

Golden little cloud had night for sleeping on the bosom of the giant mount, Early morning took it without sound playing azure; and old mount's keeping dewy trace in wrinkles like some present. There is nothing else, there's mount only, It is pensive deeply, it is lonely, It is crying quietly in the desert. P.S. This is my translation of poem by Mikhail Lermontov