The fleeting rain, with its well-splinted flows, Stroke at our roof and walls askew. ‘Have you, my girl, liked passed years, in the most? What does your heart see in the future blue?’ The candle burns. The empty house, with sadness, Supports the fatal image ‘Never more.’ And, in midnight, I have just one remembrance – ‘Twas not enough that I’ve kissed you before. Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, September, 2003