Love carefully, love slowly ...
Otherwise shloponesh baby yourself.
And you will blame yourself for this,
What else could he solve,
Touch and caress,
Well, now you will not sleep ...
Look at the windows of your moon,
And to her, as you believe not to sleep.
Even spring does not please,
Which used to drive you crazy,
But now, out of love, I suddenly went mad,
So in life there is love dying.
Love is not a game, it melts snow,
Love is a bright, bright feeling,
But to love is not necessary art.
(стихотворение переведено на английский язык для тех, кто знает английский.)