I am not ill your youth,
Observing silense the soul,
Not bravely submerging in constancy,
you I as well as before everything I love.
you melted with a spring as snows,
you were hidden on an autumn turning yellow,
On summer with me was not,
And I at night all you I cherish.
And nature is reflected in puddles,
Bearing the that day of calendar,
When to you non-flying weather,
And distance your as before not visible.
I again after you did not go away,
Missed by hours thinking of meeting,
And I remember a mystery and speeches,
That забыты- is distant.