The Lost

Àðòóð Òóõèêÿí
How feeble must my spirit be
Not to resist this sweet temptation:
To love thee and be loved by thee,
By thee, who's always bound to be
In mid of my imagination.
And all is gone – my joy and mirth –
Just from the moment of thy birth
Thou art the one for me on earth.
And I recall the day we talked,
Thy rigid answer and thy glance,
And all those words, that I have told,
When I've been longing for a chance
To be with thee and prove my love…
But now it's gone, it's gone above,
Where angels live – their wings they wave –
With them my love's forever safe.