…Recalling the ghosts of the past,
She gave me a very mature
Bends young heart,
Bends of a young mind…
And these gentle chords,
In appearance weaker cane,
hardened, as steel, and hard, –
Pinned their hand heaven…
Simple magic hand of,
She said: "Rab, live!»
And I'll bet, How to catch a bird,
The genius toils of love…
we, with far and near,
stand, proud of his beauty,
As ancient obelisks,
Oserebrennye moon…
The same pride without example,
Only different views into the distance:
One soul - a living faith, –
Another - the eternal sorrow.
17 June 1899
