By Alexander Blok
Being alone, I come again,
Fascinated with lights of your love.
I've been rescueing out of burden
Of my heavy years only by guessing.
And again I'm the sorcery making
Over you, yet the answer's unknown.
Days, all filled with such a guessing,
I'm carressing them - don't call either.
How soon will the fires of love
Go down bewitched, still oppressing?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem