My Rose is not very happy
As all of the people I know,
And to my regret she had left me
Without giving chance to my soul.
I don't want to say I'm an angel,
Whose wings resurrect any smile,
I'm just one of "city-type" strangers,
Who love lovelies clearly like child.
And I loved the best of the beauties,
Who lighted my life with a ray,
A ray of the chance and the moody,
A ray of her beautiful name.
I am tired of inferior feelings,
But I'll fight for the moments of life,
Which consists of the partings and meetings,
Things composing miraculous life.