Let”s sit down here, my dearest,
Look and see how much I care.
I will listen to the tempest
Under your submissive stare.
All this golden vegetation
And this fair lock of hair,-
They have come just like salvation
Of the loafer free of care.
Long ago I left my village
With the blooming fields and thicket,
Tempted by the city image
And the life of fame, so wicked.
So I buried in oblivion
Orchard, summer I enjoyed
Where I, to the frogs” singing,
Raised myself to be a poet.
Autumn with the golden branches…
Maple, lime-trees, taking pleasure,
Stick their twigs inside, like clutches,
Searching for someone they treasure.
They are gone, our dear losses,
In the homely yard the crescent
Marks with beams of light on crosses
That we”ll join them in the basement.
Going trough the troubles wholly
We shall go like this to welkin.
All the winding roads are only
For the living beings welcome.
Come, sit down here, my dearest,
Let me look into your face.
I will listen to the tempest
Under your submissive gaze.
(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)