I’m writing you: what more can tell I?
What can I add to what I feel?
And now, I know, rewarding me by
Contempt and scorn is in your will.
But I believe you feel compassion
For my unhappy painful fate.
You won’t abandon me with wait.
At first, I wanted to keep silence.
Believe: you’d never known my shame,
If I had been in hope of glancing
You though at least from week a day.
I only want to hear you speaking,
To tell a word and have a day
And then the night for trembling thinking
And wait for meeting in this way.
But you are said to like be lonely,
Here in the country you are bored.
But we … we nave no shining, only
The simple heart and artless word.
Tatiana s letter a fragment
© Copyright: Селиванова Татьяна, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106092600843
Свидетельство о публикации №106092600843
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