перевод с русского
Come to me, look at me, my old love!
Come to me, I’m alive, though it’s silly.
See my lips, they have whispered: ‘Enough’!
And my hands, you can’t stop them being chilly.
Every evening I’m brought to the door
In my chair, and I see all the roads.
Did I really reproach you before
For my fears, and of them have I loads?
Can I fear anything at this door,
Turning pale for the symptoms of dying?
And the nights are so dangerous for
Your bright eyes in my drams full of flying.