Slowly my days are passing away,
And every moment in a sad heart multiplies,
All afflictions of unhappy love
And all folly dreams troubles.
But I keep silence; my grumble not heard;
I am crying hard; tears are comfort for me;
My soul, seizing with pangs of love,
In them bitter, hard enjoyment, delight, sweets finds.
Oh life’s time! Fly away, not a pity,
Disappear in darkness, empty phanthtom;
I would give anything for my love suffers –
Even though I die, but die loving!
(Translation of Pushkin)
Wish Desire
© Copyright: Анна Берулько, 2010
Свидетельство о публикации №110011801568
Свидетельство о публикации №110011801568
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