You made a difficult feat on her,
But, poor friend! about, Do you discern
her outfit, and festive and wonderful,
And strange spring flowers?..
I was waiting you. And your shadow flitted
away, in the fields, where he was, and I,
Where she once rested,
Where are you sighing about the mysteries of life…
And did you know, I will rejoice?
you disappear, accomplishing, but not loving?
What I'm really young-dream
I found in bloody colors without you?
I'm not you, nor thy works do not have to,
You tell me funny, you miserable me, old man!
Your hero - my, - and your reward me:
Mad laughter and crazy cry!
27 December 1901
