It seems to me, that wasn’t me,
And you are not today with me.
Maybe it was a sweetened dream.
The brightest moon was not a crown.
All leaves were dead and stars were drawn.
I used to come there in rarely moments
To be myself and show my poems,
And all of them I wrote to you,
To man who is my virgin love,
Wisdom of life. But what’s above?
We have to part! Don’t be upset!
Your heart will mention all of that
In early spring and thunderstorm.
You would hear whisper of the leaves
And wind would bring rain’s drops to you.
They will be clear and precious tears.
These thoughts I kept in lonely soul,
And feelings were a powerless truth
Like trees in nude at delayed fall.
I say “good bye.” Sincerely yours".